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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479152">Archangel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlyn_Pyndragon/pseuds/Merlyn_Pyndragon'>Merlyn_Pyndragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hunters &amp; Hunting, Leadership, Loyalty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:34:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlyn_Pyndragon/pseuds/Merlyn_Pyndragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know what you're doing. Taking apart my work piece by piece," said John. Forcefully calm. "You think you're fighting the good fight. You think you're doing the right thing, when all you ever do is make matters worse for everyone. So I'm going to give you a chance to do something beneficial. For everyone. I want you to kill something."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>Deputy-y-y...I know you're listening.</em>”</p><p>Crouched at the edge of the brook, I flicked droplets from my fingers before wiping them on my cargos. Upstream, Sharky belched and dried his mouth on his arm. He gestured at my radio.</p><p>“Want me to wait while you get that?”</p><p>I grunted, breath pluming. I shouldered my bow and turned my back on the brook, and the cultists that lay dead at its shore. Pulled a dart from a crumpled packet filched from a Peggy's pocket and stuck it in my mouth, but didn't light it. Sharky followed like a pup, chatting about nothing as we hauled ass. Never good to hang about after a skirmish, after all. Worse was staying in place after a contact from John Seed himself, because last time it had meant his men knew exactly where I was and I was one Bliss bullet away from oblivion.</p><p>John let me ignore him, but not for long. We had just made it across a frosty field to the cliffs when the Baptist graced us with his voice a second time.</p><p>“<em>I know what you're doing. Taking apart my work piece by piece...</em>” John sounded nonchalant, yet certain. Forcefully calm. “<em>Slaughtering my people, destroying my property, and generally being a little pain in the ass.</em>”</p><p>“I had 'rhoids once,” said Sharky. “Not fun.”</p><p>“<em>You think you're fighting the good fight. You think you're doing the right thing...</em>”</p><p>I sighed through my noise, booting a patch of late snow and nibbling on the unlit cigarette. Heard this song so many goddamn <em>fucking</em> times—</p><p>“<em>...When all you ever do is make matters worse for everyone.</em>”</p><p>“The doc had to push them back in,” continued Sharky, pushing air hemorrhoids into an air rectum with one finger. He winced. “Don't come back from somethin' like that. Nope.”</p><p>“<em>So I'm going to give you a chance to do something beneficial. For everyone.</em>”</p><p>I rolled my eyes and mouthed, <em>Say yes</em>. But what came next surprised me.</p><p>“<em>I want you to kill something.</em>”</p><p>I stopped cold. As though John could see me, he said, “<em>Yes, I thought </em><em>that would</em><em> get your attention. It is, after all, what you do best. And trust me when I say, this is a task most befitting of you.</em>”</p><p>I thought about turning the radio off, because already I didn't like where this was going, curious as I was. Curiosity won.</p><p>“<em>As you know, quite well, progress cannot be made without some...messes. There are many things that can go wrong in the quest to make the world better. And sometimes those messes...get away.</em>”</p><p>I sighed again. Lovely. Another Judge. What was it this time? A boar? A bison? The Cougar was hell enough. And I didn't even want to talk about the Moose.</p><p>“I gotta piss.” Sharky stepped to the cliff edge. <em>Zip</em>. Conscious of the wind direction, I moved further away as the radio hissed again.</p><p>“<em>My men told me you are adept at cleaning up messes, little deputy. So I am going to offer you a deal. Clean up this mess for me...and they will be spared.</em>”</p><p>Frowning, I glanced down at the radio. Then I looked at my companion. A waspish red dot was skittering across the back of his pullover, coming to rest at his spine. I froze as though I were the one in the scope. Knuckles white.</p><p><em>Sonuvabitch</em>.</p><p>John sounded amused. Enjoying himself, the fucker. “<em>It really is quite simple, little deputy. Do this task for me, remove this piece from the board, and your friends will live. And, to sweeten the pot, I am granting you clemency...albeit temporarily. For the duration of this bounty, my men will not hunt you. Any of our resources you need, you are welcome to. But, if the hunt takes longer than a week and I don't feel you are giving it your best, our deal is off. If you attack my men, our deal is off. If you run, our deal—is—off. </em></p><p>“<em>And if you refuse, well. I hear you have a lot of friends. You might handle losing three right here, right now. But will you be able to stand losing one every day until you have none left?</em>”</p><p>There was no telling who else was being targeted, if anyone else actually was, but seeing Sharky in peril was enough to convince me there was, in fact, no choice. And John was right – these Judges were a danger to everyone in the valley. But why he couldn't have his own men deal with it gave me pause.</p><p>I spat the soggy dart onto the ground.</p><p>“<em>You are a man of few words. But I don't need to hear any. You are smart. You'll agree to my terms. You'll say</em> yes.” I could almost hear John's chuckle, see his glinting blue eyes. “<em>Head southwest. It was last seen at that old Montgomery Silo. At least, we think that's where. It was hard to make out through all the screaming on the radio. I suggest you start there, look around, find out what you're up against.</em>”</p><p>My frown deepened. Didn't <em>he</em> know what I was up against? Again it was as though the Baptist himself could see me; I could hear his smirk. “<em>Why don't I give you a hint. My men call it the Archangel</em>.”</p><p>Well shit. That was all the intel I needed.</p><p>“<em>Good luck, little deputy. And good hunting.</em>” The last bleep was like a door in the face. The red dot vanished from Sharky's back just in time for him to zip up and return to my side.</p><p>“What'd I miss?”</p>
<hr/><p>Sharky was more concerned that an entire (one-sided) conversation had ensued while he was relieving himself than the fact that we were setting out to hunt a mega-mutant Angel. But listening to his prostate problems was a tad better than focusing on the festering anticipation I felt in my gut as we took my quad to the old silo. Couldn't hear him half the time anyway.</p><p>I hid the quad in the trees before scouting the open fields for danger. With the afternoon sun it had warmed, but the shadows were at their smallest, and there wasn't enough cover out there to get a closer look safely. From my position, I could see the bodies of several Peggies, Resistance and possibly civilians, all being picked at by crows and eagles and vultures. I could hear the lows of cows nearby, but otherwise, all was still.</p><p>“Could be a trap,” said Sharky, shotgun at the ready.</p><p>It could be. But it wasn't. I hadn't told Sharky about the sniper dot, so he didn't know how genuine John's deal was. If the Baptist wanted me dead, I'd be dead. This was not a trap.</p><p>“Yo, check out that truck. What was it you said we was huntin' again?”</p><p>I followed his pointing finger and shielded my eyes. The pickup was on its roof, one tire torn apart. Jesus fucking Christ.</p><p>“Cover my ass while I meander.” Sharky, probably realizing how freaked out I was, took the lead and set off. I almost fell on my face as I went to follow and stopped myself – he asked me to cover him, after all.</p><p>He army-crawled through the grasses and slithered under the fence. Using bushes as cover he rose to a crouch, scanning the drive leading up to the silo, which was nothing but a husk on the hill. I imagined the Pink Panther theme as Sharky crept and slinked around the abandoned property, spooking the birds, bobbing his head like a gopher up and around overgrowth and debris and generally making a real show of it. He checked the silo last, and only when he emerged, waving his shotgun, did I break cover and join him. The rest of the birds took to the skies, cawing angrily.</p><p>“Nothing here but some rats, amigo. I dunno, maybe a bull got loose...”</p><p>I stopped listening, kneeling beside the overturned pickup. I touched a footprint in the mud, mud made by sticky blood pooled from the arm socket of a Resistance member. I didn't look for the arm. Didn't want to look. Focused only on the print.</p><p>“Maybe two bulls.”</p><p>Widening my focus, I saw more prints. They were human. Well, humanoid. Bare, and <em>huge.</em></p><p>“I seen a bull and a grizzly bear go at it once. Fighting, I mean. Not fucking... Yo. What you keep looking at?”</p><p>I didn't have to answer. Sharky had come to stand at my shoulder. He whistled.</p><p>“What them Bigfoot nutjobs wouldn't do to getta loada these.”</p><p>I followed the prints as best I could, where they weren't ruined by tire tracks or the prints of people or animals, all of which had thawed and refroze at least once. Unfortunately that meant going to every corpse, hoping not to see a familiar face, seeing how they all died. Some had been shot, no doubt victims of an altercation that had ensued before the Archangel made an appearance and ripped the rest apart.</p><p>The tracks finally broke away from the chaos; the monster continued west. I felt a pang of fear for Nick Rye and his family – their homestead was only a couple miles from here.</p><p>“Johnny Apple Seed's really got a hard-on for you if he thinks you can take care of this thing.” Sharky had stepped into a footprint of our quarry, heel to heel. The print was twice the size of his high-tops. “Good thing you have me, 'cause y'know, that whole lone wolf thing gets a bit old—”</p><p>“You're not coming with me,” I said, voice gruff. I hocked and spat.</p><p>“...What?”</p><p>I fished from my pocket the crumpled dart pack and stuck one in my mouth. As always, I didn't light it. Started to follow the tracks, gritting my teeth when Sharky stayed on my ass.</p><p>“What ya mean, I'm not going? Course I'm going.”</p><p>Sonuvabitch. The guy was as sharp as a sack of squirrels but loyal to a T. I didn't want to tell him about how I hadn't taken down the three other Judges unscathed, about what happened the last time I brought someone with me. Luke Lee was <em>still</em> recovering from that mauling. And <em>those</em> Judges had been animals. This thing...this thing might be intelligent. I couldn't deny I needed help with the bulk of the shenanigans I got up to in Hope County, but I wasn't willing to drag someone else into a suicide mission. Not again.</p><p>But Sharky was a limpet.</p><p>“I can appreciate you trying to be a hero an' all—I mean you <em>are</em> a hero, the kind without a cape—but you need me... Aw, shucks, dep. I look at those beautiful brown eyes and I can turn my back on 'em no easier than I could slap a kitten. Kittens are hard to slap. They move like cobras. Gotta catch them unawares.”</p><p>I wasn't about to ask him why he knew so much about slapping kittens, but I was grateful all the same. About him wanting to come with me, I mean. Still, I pinched the dart and turned around, mouth open to tell him to shove off.</p><p>“Plus all that fur, doesn't really make a...” Sharky clapped his hands together once. “Ya know?”</p><p>I almost smiled, but the muscles didn't remember how before my radio chirped.</p><p>“<em>Hello, deputy. How goes the hunt? I trust you reached the silo safely, and have deduced your quarry's trail. Better get a move on – I'm told it moves very quickly.</em>”</p><p>I bristled and scanned around, but of course saw no one. It wouldn't surprise me the slightest if the Baptist was having me followed. How badass was this Archangel if John couldn't have his snipers take it out?</p><p>Perhaps that was the purpose of the call. Another hint. John wanted this <em>thing</em> dead, after all, not me. He wanted me to Atone. Strange as it was to think, John was an ally in this, if not a rather unhelpful one.</p><p>I waited, but John said nothing more. I put the radio back. Nibbled on the dart some more.</p><p>“So. Are we away?”</p><p>I glared at Sharky, sighed gruffly, then nodded, leading him on the trail of destruction left in the Archangel's wake. He could stay with me, at least for the first leg of the journey. Maybe he had a few more fun facts about dolphins he could entertain me with...</p>
<hr/><p>Night fell before we found the maker of the tracks. They smashed through miles of forest and farmland, demolished a homestead and damaged another (occupants dead or MIA) and we hadn't even begun to smell Bliss yet, which had been a tell-tale sign of the presence of the other Judges. John never said how long ago the distress call came from the old silo, and the birds had done such a number on the corpses it had been difficult to determine how old they were. We could be days behind the Archangel, for all I knew. I regretted leaving my quad at the silo.</p><p>I had confidence I could track it in the dark, but the nights were still colder than a snowman's asshole, and I was pooped. So was Sharky, although he smiled and joked and said he would follow me until he collapsed. Didn't fancy carrying him, so we stumbled a mile back to the second cabin that had been attacked.</p><p>“Think I know this place,” said Sharky. “Crazy old coot, never changed his socks.”</p><p>A hole the size of a truck provided the cabin with an extra wide, breezy view of the valley. I peered inside – no truck. The insides looked like they had been through a hurricane. I sniffed but smelled no Bliss. Or stinky socks for that matter.</p><p>“Think anything's still good?” Sharky stepped over the teeth made by the cabin's shattered siding and kicked his way through debris to the fridge. It had been tipped on its side. He opened the door, gagged, and slammed it shut. “Nope.”</p><p>I followed him in and tried the lights. No go. There were some candles, which we lit to conserve batteries while we rummaged around for food. There were canned goods and bottled water, and Sharky managed to hound out a jug of moonshine.</p><p>“Good ol' Stinky-Feet Pete,” he said, and downed a mouthful. He offered me some, but I declined and demolished a can of tomatoes.</p><p>We shared a jar of peaches for dessert before rooting around for bedding.</p><p>“Shottie the couch.” Sharky dragged said couch further from the hole in the wall, then unrolled a quilt scavenged from a closet. I took a second quilt and poked my head into the bedroom. There was blood on the mattress. I flipped it over and settled down. I could see stars between the curtains from where I lay. Blindly I pulled out the packet of cigarettes and felt them. Only three left. They returned to my pocket.</p><p>Sharky's voice drifted in from the other room. “Shit. Just realized somethin'. Antifreeze, it pro'ly has a shelf-life, right? I been hoarding that stuff. I mean we all gotta play a part in this and nobody thinks about the needs of life, like antifreeze. What if this shitshow goes through another winter, huh? Everyone'll be all, 'Hey, I need antifreeze, who got antifreeze?' And I'll be all, 'I got some right here, homie,' and I'll share because that's what I do. I care so I share. And not just antifreeze, no, no I got all kinds of stuff. Harder to come by car parts with them Peggies five-finger-discounting everything. What if the Re-zee-zee needs a buncha spark plugs? Or a new muffler? I just sleep better knowing that I've got a pile of tires back in the garage...”</p><p>For the second time that day my face almost remembered how to smile, but then the world was gone and I was free.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Disclaimer: Several quotes nabbed for Sharky. If you've had him as a Gun For Hire you probably heard his voice in your head when you read them.<br/>Took me a long time to finish this fucker so I hope you like it. Note to those prone to writer's block: try ambient sounds. Woodland, library, storms and rain on a tin roof. Really helps.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After an early rise and a breakfast of canned beans and mushrooms, we set off once more. And once more I failed to shake Sharky off my tail.</p><p>"C'mon, Popo, you know you can't stop me anyways...You got some bean juice on your shirt."</p><p>He was right. About the bean juice and about being unable to stop him. Aside from roping him to a tree, I couldn't prevent him from following me, and I wasn't about to sit there and wait for him to get too bored or too horny to stick around.</p><p>And...well, couldn't say I didn't want the company. When the trail warmed up, maybe by then I would think up some way to scare Sharky off, or distract him...</p><p>The air had teeth. Our breaths plumed, boots crunching through snow that had found refuge in the dense forest, where the sun couldn't reach. Before mid-morning we were stopped by the shores of the river that curled around the southern and western reaches of the valley. Somewhere south of us was John Seed's ranch. I thought about popping down there to say hello. With a shotgun.</p><p>"Watch it, there. Bliss barrel." Sharky grabbed the lip of said barrel so that the last of its poison wouldn't drain into the water, pulling it further from the shore. He blinked and rubbed his eyes before pressing his face into my map. "I think there's a dock down that way." He paused, then rotated it. "My bad. <em>That</em> way. Might be a boat we can jack there."</p><p>I gauged the distance to the other shore to be about twenty feet at its narrowest point. We could swim across, but with the time of year the consequences of saving a bit of time would just be miserable. So I tied a spare shirt to a branch overhanging the water, marking where the Archangel had crossed, and we followed the river until we came to a small fishing dock. Wouldn't you know it, a jet-ski was sitting there ready for us.</p><p>Luke had taught me how to hotwire, but as we got closer I realized it wasn't needed. The key was already in the ignition. I hoped it wasn't in far enough to trigger the battery as I climbed aboard. Sharky got on behind me, trying to keep a respectable space between us.</p><p>"I feel kinda bad for taking this but I guess you're a cop so it's sorta okay," he said. "It's not stealing if it's commandeering."</p><p>I turned the ignition and was relieved when it roared to life. I resisted the urge to check behind us before gunning it, leaning forwards as the propellers dug deep into the water. Maybe this belonged to a Peggy and we were inconveniencing the right person. Or maybe it had been left deliberately. John did say I was welcome to any cult resources for the duration of this bounty...</p><p>Less than half an hour after we left we were back at my mark. I turned to the western shore and scanned for evidence of the Judge's passing. There, two deep footprints in the mud, side by side. I told myself it had stood there, not landed as though it had jumped over the water. Because that would mean it could jump twenty feet.</p><p>Running the jet-ski aground, we hid it in the reeds, then followed the tracks up the bank and into the trees.</p><p>"Is that a moose?"</p><p>I jolted. I was so focused on the tracks on the ground I'd forgotten to look up and around. Pop wouldn't be pleased. Turning to Sharky, I followed his pointing finger and couldn't help but agree that that mass in the tree was in fact a bull moose. And I didn't reckon a cougar could do that...But then, what were those...?</p><p>I stepped closer and ran my fingers down claw marks gouged into the trunk. Widening my focus, I saw that they were everywhere, travelling with the footprints. So this thing had talons. Awesome.</p><p>"Should have brought a bigger gun," Sharky muttered.</p><p>I checked my own gear. A compound bow, always at hand; a MBP .50 sniper, complete with suppressor; a 1911 handgun, a gift from Dutch, and double-barrel sawed-off, painted burnt-orange. A silent killer, a long-ranged, a cop must-have, and a who-gives-a-shit, blow-them-to-hell. A bit much, perhaps, but one had to be much in order to survive out here. What if my sniper jammed, or I ran out of arrows, or the Peggy was too far away for buckshot? All of which have happened, and all had been overcome by my being prepared.</p><p>And having someone watch my back.</p><p>"I mean this is crazy, man. The cult's got RPGs and helicopters and <em>planes</em> and shit. Not to mention this thing's the size of King Kong. Not easy to miss. Hey, maybe you should call Aunty Addie. She'll be able to spot it from <em>Tulip</em>."</p><p>No. I wasn't dragging anyone else through hellfire. I pretended not to hear him, busy with differentiating a bear trail from the Archangel's. Wasn't difficult.</p><p>A mile passed underfoot, mostly uphill, before we finally smelled Bliss. Reining in anticipation, fear and adrenaline, we pressed on, curling south, then southeast, then east and then north east...</p><p>The sun was sinking.</p><p>"We're going in circles, man! There's that moose!"</p><p>I looked up. Indeed, there was the moose in the tree, flies buzzing around its open eyes. Checking the tracks, I saw the old footprints – including ours – trampled beneath the Archangel's newer tracks. It had returned to its own path, a complete ring.</p><p>"It's okay, just relax, Popo." Sharky, seeing the rigidity in my shoulders, held up placating hands. "If it's going in circles, it's not rampaging through people, right? So that's a plus. Maybe if we go against the tracks, we'll meet it half way."</p><p>As much as the suggestion made sense, I knew from experience that wasn't how to hunt meandering prey...if one could call this meandering. I had been careful to check for scat all day, anything to suggest the Archangel was marking its territory, but humans didn't leave waste to fence in their land...usually.</p><p>Maybe it was hurt, confused, and therefore lost. But then, what were the odds that it would find its way back here, in a complete ring, to this treed moose?</p><p>Electricity rippled up my back, tingles and pins and needles and if I had fur, I would've doubled in size. Slipping an arrow to rest on my bow, I hissed, brisk and sharp, twice. Sharky looked to me and followed my lead, crouching and taking cover. He knew better than to say anything, but I could see the question in his eyes.</p><p>Some people claim they could tell when they're being watched. We might be. But that wasn't what my feeling felt like. My tingles had spawned from the realization that we might not be the hunters in this chase after all.</p><p>I signalled 'Eyes open' to Sharky, and we scanned, we listened, and we waited.</p><p>Nothing. For ten minutes we crouched in the bushes, hearing distant gunshots, a helicopter, birds overhead. Finally, when I could take no more, when my legs were cramped and my hands so sweaty the bow felt like grease, I heard the scream.</p><p>It was feminine, raspy, and terrified. Mountain lions could make sounds like that, a truly haunting yowl that made sleeping in the woods a harrowing experience.</p><p>"Yo," said Sharky. Sounded scared.</p><p>I nodded to him, and we rose together, hastening towards the screams. The ground rose gradually here, rising with the western mountains, and my legs tried to stiffen. It was a relief when the playing field levelled, and we stopped at the edge of a glade carpeted with grass and speckled with juniper trees. There was still snow here, but not enough to crush the tall grasses, much of which came up past our knees. Looming pines around the glade cast questionable shadows.</p><p>The woman's screams had reduced to sobs as we'd approached, and now we heard nothing at all.</p><p>"We're too late," Sharky moaned.</p><p>"Shh!" I'd heard something. A snap, a rustle. Smooth carbon fibre slipped through my fingers as I drew my hand along the arrow shaft, to the fletching. I did not draw – one should only draw with the intention of releasing soon after – but I was ready for whatever was in this glade. My eyes never held still, never focused on one thing for more than a second, and in contrast my body did not move, trusting the shadows to keep me hidden. It was hard; I felt like something was creeping up behind me on padded feet, eyes hungry, ready to pounce—</p><p>A deer exploded from behind a juniper tree, then another and another, barrelling straight for us. We jumped with twin cries of alarm, pressing our backs against pines to allow the herd to pass. Their tails were raised in warning, white bums vanishing into the trees, down the slope.</p><p>Sharky laughed nervously.</p><p>"Guess it was a cougar after all."</p><p>I wanted to believe that too.</p><p>I stepped away from the tree, only to stiffen again as one more deer appeared from the shadows across the glade. I could see the whites of its eyes from here, wild with terror, its legs akimbo. It stumbled, then trumpeted, and then a giant mass burst out of the trees behind it.</p><p>I could only stare as the mass grabbed hold of the deer and <em>ripped</em> it in half.</p><p>It was monstrous. Half again the size of a man, bulging with muscle, arms too long and a gaunt, elongated head, like a hairless ape. Its skin looked more like hide, scarred and cracked, with weeping lesions. The Archangel brought the deer hindquarters up to its mouth and ripped a chunk off with its teeth, blood and innards splattering to the ground.</p><p>"Holy fuck. Dep. Y-you—you seein' this?"</p><p>Sharky had the sense to keep his voice down, but we were still standing out in the open, in civilian clothes. If we moved, it would see us for sure.</p><p>"What do we do?"</p><p>A damn fine question. But I didn't have to answer it. Because at the sound of some firefight further down the mountain, the Archangel turned towards us.</p><p>Sonuvabitch.</p><p>The monster roared, angry and hollow, and as though from a torn throat. Sharky screamed and fired. I ducked to the side, half deafened, and when I straightened I saw the Archangel charging us, smashing juniper like twigs.</p><p>I aimed the broadhead at the creature's eye. But I had no chance to fire before it was upon us. With a gorilla arm it swatted me aside like a fly. I hit a tree and collapsed, stunned, winded, hearing only shotgun blasts as Sharky unloaded everything he had.</p><p>"Over here, you meathead! I'll murder you to death—! Oh, <em>shit!</em>"</p><p>There was a roar and Sharky howled. More shotgun shells were emptied explosively.</p><p>"<em>Dep! I need ya!</em>"</p><p>I got up, fumbling for my bow. Arrow. Where's the arrow? <em>Forget the arrow!</em> I staggered, shaking my head until my vision went from tripled to doubled. I stumbled faster, reaching for a new broadhead as doubled vision became singled. I saw something between the trees, the colour of burnt flesh and smouldering with Bliss fumes, and fired at it. The arrow ricocheted off its shoulder, but it was enough to get its attention. It turned and charged.</p><p>My next arrow shattered against its chest. The one after glanced off its forehead as I tried for its glowing red eyes. The Bliss grew so strong I swayed, and my fourth shot missed altogether. Then the Archangel grew wings and leaped into the air, coming straight down towards me.</p><p>No. <em>No!</em> It didn't grow wings. It's the Bliss! It just jumped and <em>it's coming!</em></p><p>I rolled out of the way just before the Judge landed. I felt the impact through the ground, and fear made my legs wobbly as I scrambled behind a pine.</p><p>The Archangel's leg came into view so I crawled in the same direction, keeping to the opposite side of the trunk. The beast made a confused sound and stepped around the tree, but again I moved to keep out of sight. Loud, scruffy sounds indicated that it had a sense of smell.</p><p>Then the tree moved. I craned my neck up, and stiffened as the tree began to bow away from me, towards the monster. There was a roar, and then a thunderclap, and I shielded my eyes as I was showered with splinters and bark. The trunk had snapped just over my head, leaving the Archangel with a clear view of me cowering on the ground.</p><p>I dropped the bow and seized the sawed-off, bringing it up to my face as the monster reached for me. The gun bucked and the Archangel recoiled, shrieking, and so I unloaded the second barrel at it before cracking the gun open and popping in two more shells at once. I had only snapped it shut before the hands came again and gripped me hard, pinning my arms to my sides, lifting me into the air like a child.</p><p>It shook me, squeezed me, and if I didn't do something I would burst like a grape, get ripped apart like that deer.</p><p>I pulled my knees to my chest and kicked, hard as I could, flatfooting the Archangel in the teeth. With a roar it released me. I had no sooner landed on my hands and knees that it punted me like a football, into the glade. I saw sky, then earth, then sky again before I crash landed.</p><p>"<em>Uuuueugh</em>."</p><p>I thought that must be what it felt like to be hit by a truck, or a goddamn <em>train</em>. I remained there on the ground, surrounded in grasses, wondering how I wasn't broken in half. I could hear the monster slashing around, huffing and puffing like a bull, searching for me.</p><p>I had just gotten my breath back when my radio hissed with John's voice.</p><p>"<em>Deputy! Heard you've met the Archangel. Do you like him</em><em>?</em>"</p><p><em>You cock-sucking </em><em>shitstain</em><em>! </em>I fumbled to turn the radio down before the monster could hear it.</p><p>"<em>So sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I forgot to mention he's got the hide of a rhinoceros, and the temper of one, too. Does that help?</em>"</p><p>I crawled beneath the cover of a juniper and pulled off my crumpled pack, rooting through until a pinkish cylinder with a fuse emerged. I began patting myself down for my Zippo.</p><p><em>Hold on, Sharky</em>...</p><p>There, in my pocket. I yanked it out, flipped open the cap and tried to click it to life.</p><p>
  <em>Come on, come on, yes!</em>
</p><p>I checked the Archangel's location, lit the fuse, and then threw the dynamite into the woods, away from Sharky, away from our escape route. Then I forced myself to stay put, to remain perfectly still until the dynamite detonated and even then, until the Archangel charged the noise. I used its own racket to cover my own, running doubled over in the other direction, not straightening until I was out of the glade.</p><p>I could hear roars behind me but did not turn. A tree tried to bite me but I ignored that too. The Bliss was getting overwhelming and we had to fall back. Regroup. Rethink.</p><p>I almost landed on Sharky as I hurdled a log. He was lying there, blood running from his scalp, looking dazed.</p><p>"Dep...down here."</p><p>I scanned him quickly for further injury before grabbing him and hauling him over my shoulders in a fireman's carry. He groaned and struggled but I refused to let go, trotting through the trees and down the slope as quickly as I could manage. He was taller than me, and I hurt, but I was on a Bliss high. And I haven't lived this long by being a pussy.</p><p>"My gun."</p><p>Ignored him. He was dazed, couldn't get his priorities straight. Besides, I was leaving my good bow behind. We would come back for them later.</p><p>Correction. <em>I</em> would come back for them later. Alone. Because what I feared would happen happened, and now I had to get Sharky to safety, to people who could take care of him while I fulfilled my deal with the devil.</p><p>Or died trying.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I really, <em>really</em> wish you would tell me what happened.”</p><p>Most people accepted that I kept to myself, but Mary May Fairgrave was always trying to wheedle words out of me. I couldn't blame her – knocking on her door at one in the morning with a semi-conscious pyromaniac over my shoulders warranted plenty of questions. But I simply huddled more over the bar, pulling the blanket tighter around myself and sipping on leftover stew. I wouldn't let her see my own injuries, because come daybreak, she'd never let me leave The Spread Eagle.</p><p>She was leaning on the back counter, arms crossed, watching me through narrowed eyes. I could feel them drilling into the top of my head, and I had to resist the urge to expose my jugular.</p><p>“You know if you don't tell me, Boshaw will.”</p><p>Mary was right; he would have no problem telling everyone what we were hunting, even if I'd ordered him not to...Not that anyone sane had ever volunteered to help me take down a Judge before. After ensuring Sharky didn't have a concussion, I had let him sleep, and that bought me some time to recuperate, and think.</p><p>I merely grunted, hoping it didn't sound rude, and scooped up the last cube of beef from the bowl. Mary sighed and sliced me another piece of bread to mop up the sauce.</p><p>“I don't know what happened to you to make you such a gum-flapper, Deputy,” she said blandly, and I looked up at her. She was smiling.</p><p>I caught a couple hours' sleep, then I was gone before the first streaks of pink bled into the sky. The Peggy half ton I'd nicked the night before lurched and stumbled over the frozen ruts and troughs gouged into the road, created in the warmth of yesterday's afternoon and the cold of last night. My inventory was restocked and revamped, and I had mapped out the Archangel's trail, from the Old Silo to the wilderness west beyond the river. Using other maps lying around the General Store I had gotten a better idea of what the topography was like on that mountain – some bare cliffs and clearings, mostly woodland. Nothing that really screamed “Angel lair” at me.</p><p>But it was easy to track. A blind man could do it. My only beef was how the claw marks had gotten on the trees. Thought it had been from the Archangel, but when it grabbed me, I noticed its nails weren't very long. Perhaps it had been chasing a cougar...but I've hunted since I was a child. They didn't look like cougar marks to me.</p><p>It was with ease I found the glade again, and where the Archangel had nested for the night – not far from where the dynamite had exploded, incidentally. Perhaps it couldn't see in the dark any better than a regular human. I could use that.</p><p>After retrieving my bow and Sharky's shotgun, I followed the fresh tracks...back to the river. It had jumped across again, and was now trampling its way southeast.</p><p>I had heard nothing from John Seed since he nearly compromised my hiding spot the evening before, with his tardy warning that the Archangel had tough skin. So perhaps it never got close to his ranch...or better yet, it had ripped the sadistic <span>fucktrumpet</span> in two and I was out of my bargain.</p><p>I doubted it. That shit would have been all over the radio. So I heaved my tired bag of bones of a body back into the Peggy pickup and returned to the road.</p><p>I had a theory on these rogue Judges, although it was tricky to test because a) there were so few of them and b) there was Bliss <span>abso-fucking-lutely</span> everywhere. But I believed that, even though Bliss radiated from their skin like heat, they were still drawn to the stuff, in its concentrated form. When hunting the Judge Moose, Cougar and Bear, I had found each of them in locations so polluted with flower power I'd experienced the most potent hallucinations yet. I'd been truly convinced there were fifty Judge Moose and the Cougar had turned into a turkey.</p><p>If this Archangel was anything like those poor animals, it too was seeking concentrated Bliss. There had been a barrel of it by the river, where it had crossed. And now it was hunting more...at least, that was my theory.</p><p>It was why I nabbed this truck. Bait.</p><p>I hit a pothole and was jolted from my thoughts. Head on a swivel, I took my bearings. To my left was the gutted silo of Bradbury Farm. Fast approaching was the airstrip on Seed's ranch. I fingered my radio, then forced myself to grab the steering wheel, locking both hands around it. No. No help. Not Nick Rye, not Adelaide Drubman, no one. Sharky got hurt because he'd been with me. Luke Lee had gotten hurt because he'd been with me. This was <em>my</em> fight. Today I hunt alone.</p><p>The radio chirped to life.</p><p>“<span><em>Gooooood</em></span> morning<em>, Deputy!</em>”</p><p>Well, not entirely alone.</p><p>“<em>We're watching you drive by. I hope you didn't think you were blending in by stealing a truck. Mind that back tire, it looks a little flat.</em>”</p><p>A muscle jumped in my jaw, brow furrowed. John Seed was definitely having me followed. They couldn't see me or my rear tire from his ranch. Besides, I didn't “steal” the truck. He said their resources were my resources for this bounty. What was more, I was a cop. Like Sharky said, it's called commandeering.</p><p>“<em>You are alone today. My, my, I'm not sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Your ego's writing cheques your skills can't cash. I do hope you at least equipped yourself a little more adequately this time. A bit old to be playing Indian, don't you think?</em>”</p><p>I thought about flipping the bird through the window, but I didn't want him to know he'd gotten under my skin.</p><p>One day I'll put an arrow in you, Seed. And it'll be with this bow.</p><p>I turned right onto the drive leading up to the ranch. It had warmed up enough that mud splattered up the sides of the half-ton. The radio squawked again.</p><p>“<em>Coming to say hello? I hope you haven't forgotten that important subject in our agreement referring to the abstention of inflicting harm upon the faithful?</em>”</p><p>I smirked. I'd spooked him. But I wasn't heading for his ranch house. I took the second left turn off the drive, a row of makeshift greenhouses coming into view.</p><p>“<em>Ah, making use of my resources. Very wise, Deputy. Do not worry, they know not to harm you.</em>”</p><p>“They” had all stopped what they were doing and were watching me like zombies. Very hairy, angry zombies. Clearly someone had radioed them a warning, otherwise I would have been able to get closer in this Peggy-mobile before they realized I wasn't smelly enough to be one of them.</p><p>The cultists were armed but none of them were aiming at me as I stopped and stepped out of the truck. In good faith I left my rifle, bow and shotgun on the seat, but the 1911 hidden in my waistband, pressing into my lower back, was a stiff comfort. Scowling, I tried to move smooth despite having limbs as rigid as boards, every muscle fibre <em>screaming</em> at me to run, to take cover. Instead I met eyes, dismissed glares, and ignored AK-47s before turning my focus to the transport vehicles that had arrived before me.</p><p>There was a dock nearby where the ranch received shipments from the east. Dried Bliss flowers, Bliss powder, Bliss oil, liquid Bliss. Potent shit. By the look of things, the cargo was brought up here, sorted, inventoried, then transported around the Valley. The stuff I was eyeballing appeared to have already gone through the first three steps and was ready to be shipped. Perfect.</p><p>Scowls deepened as I took what I needed, one crate and barrel at a time, sliding them into the bed of the half-ton. I took mild satisfaction in messing up their paperwork. It was quieter than a whorehouse on Sunday; I could have been alone, hearing only the occasional boot being unstuck from the mud or a loogie hocked. Once I had all I needed, I secured everything with rope. The slam of the tailgate broke the spell, several cultists taking steps towards me as I made for the driver side door.</p><p>I hadn't been this tense since the time I was surrounded by a pack of Judge Wolves, all <em>itching</em> for the order to be given to rip me limb from limb.</p><p>
  <em>Easy, easy. <span>Nooo</span> sudden movements.</em>
</p><p>I climbed inside, slammed the door shut and turned the key.</p><p>
  <em>Whrrr-whrrr-whrrr.</em>
</p><p>Sonuvabitch. Forgot about the dying alternator. Should have left this bad boy running.</p><p>
  <em>Whrrr-whrrr-whrrr. Whrrr-whrrr-whrrr.</em>
</p><p>If ever there was a time I'd wish for those limp-dicked dildos to stop staring at me, this would be it. My cheeks were burning as though this were my piece-of-shit truck.</p><p><em>Whrr-whrr-</em>BRRUM!</p><p>Golden. I twisted around in the seat, making a smooth K-turn that put those Peggy bastards in my rear view. They still weren't moving as I rounded the bend and turned back onto the driveway, heading away from the ranch. Tension flooded out of my body, and I blinked slowly with a sigh.</p><p>And then the one-sided radio conversation resumed.</p><p>“<em>That wasn't so bad, was it? You didn't check that tire, though. If you'd asked nicely, I'm sure any one of my men could have helped you change it.</em>”</p><p>For fuck sake. Stop. <em>Talking</em>. I released my feelings by flooring the accelerator, then tearing the steering wheel to the right and hauling on the handbrake as I came to the main road. The result was a massive gouge in the mud on Seed's driveway, one that would leave a nice deep tire-raping rut once night fell and the frosts came.</p><p>I drove east, heading for a bridge. I allowed myself an unlit cigarette, worrying at it with my molars. I glanced in the rear view at my cargo. One of the barrels was leaking Bliss fumes. Should probably deal with that.</p><p>“<em>Oh, my men have a message for you,</em>” John radioed. “<em>Sounds urgent. Very short, though. Would you like to hear it? It's just two words. 'Look out.'</em>”</p><p>My window exploded and the truck jerked to the right, the door caving, my body slamming down across the seats and my skull smacking on the passenger door. I was too stunned to do anything as the truck rolled forward down the bank until its grill bumped against a tree.</p><p>Dazed, stupefied, and confused as fuck I pushed myself up, shedding small green cubes of glass. Favoured the growing bump on my head, tasted pennies. My left side already felt swollen and bruised. The dart had stuck to blood on the seat. I put it back in my mouth. It was several seconds before I had the wits to check my surroundings, seeking the semi-truck that had T-boned me.</p><p>But there was nothing. No other vehicles at all. I looked at the door, crushed up close to the steering wheel. A wayward bison maybe?</p><p>I slid back over to the driver's seat. I could still kind of get my right leg over far enough in the footwell to use the pedals, my left hip pressed against the door. I put it in reverse and got back on the road, before shifting into drive. But then I just sat there. Still a bit fucked I couldn't stop myself from reaching up to tweak the rear view mirror. I tilted it to the left – and blanched as I saw the Archangel tearing up the road behind me.</p><p>“SONUVABITCH!” I slammed on the gas and the bald tires screamed like wounded animals, the engine whining and <span>clanking</span> which would normally concern me but right now this tin can was getting me to safety or so help me—</p><p>The next impact booted the rear of the truck into the air. My face slammed into the steering wheel, lip bursting against my teeth, and through watery eyes I only saw pavement through the windshield. Metal shrieked and tore as the truck slid forward on its bumper, sparks flying, gouging the road. Then it groaned as it fell back onto all four tires, jolting me. Fuck, how I had yet to piss myself...</p><p>Bliss. I could smell Bliss. There were flowers all over the hood. A green barrel rolled off the road, down the bank. I glanced back to see green snot oozing down the rear window. Liquid Bliss. One shot of that could put down a goddamn elephant.</p><p>Looked forward. I was at the bridge. If I got out and ran, I could escape via the river. But I couldn't open the crunched door and the Archangel was back, hooking the truck's underbelly with both hands.</p><p>Damn. It looked bigger than it did yesterday.</p><p>I floored the gas but the engine only revved, the tires finding no purchase, no resistance, because they were no longer on the road. I was viewing the road sideways, then upside down, then sideways again and holy fuck this thing was STRONG—</p><p>I fancied that I lifted off the seat a bit, like an astronaut reaching zero gravity, and for what seemed like an entire minute I floated in the cab, the world revolving slowly around me, glass exploding, metal screaming. A branch speared through the window and nearly gored me as the truck stopped upside down against a tree. I was curled on the roof, the truck half propped up sideways between the trunk and bank.</p><p>I couldn't move. My limbs were a thousand pounds apiece<em>.</em> My already damaged ribs were strangling my lungs, and every inch of me felt black and blue. And my <em>head</em>...</p><p>I shifted, and cubes of glass crackled. I spat out a glob of blood, hazy, as the radio hissed from where it had landed on the cab roof. A chunk of glass from the blown windshield, opaque with cracks, had kept it from flying free.</p><p>“<em>Deputy? You there?</em>”</p><p>John almost sounded concerned. I wasn't concerned. Everything was hunky-dory here. I was half aware my shirt was soaked with sweet-smelling slime, the back window shattered like the others, and the truck bed's contents were all over the place. I grabbed my pack and fastened the radio to my belt as I crawled out the front window, and I fell, rolling down the rest of the bank and into the reeds at the river's edge. I could see snowflakes. Fireflies. Fairies. Whatever they were, they were everywhere, and they were taking away my pain. I smelled nothing but Bliss.</p><p>Sweet, sweet Bliss...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ground was hard. Smelled of dirt and manure and straw. I opened my eyes, wincing at the light beaming in between ill-fitting boards. A chicken strutted past, head cocked, cooing suspiciously.</p><p>I moved, and I groaned. One would think, after several times waking up as a throbbing mass, I would be used to it. But if the injuries weren't great, I would feel fine as soon as I stretched and warmed up.</p><p>I pushed myself with one arm until I rolled over, a mouldy horse blanket falling away. My hands were wrapped in bloody bandages, and someone had taped or sewn other gashes shut. It was crude and done to keep me alive, but also with vehemence, not to save me pain.</p><p>Once I got my breathing under control, I sat up and looked around. I had been dumped on the floor of a barn, an abandoned one by the look of things. A combine loomed in the corner. The animals were loose or absent, and the straw smelled mildewy. I couldn't see the back of the barn in the shadows, nor into the loft, and my senses shifted into high gear. Whoever brought me here might be lingering.</p><p>Chickens circled me warily as I stood. I was unfamiliar but I was a featherless two-legger, and featherless two-leggers meant chicken feed. I didn't have any chicken feed so I ignored them, staggering over to my stuff, which had been dumped unceremoniously in a stall. On a pile of shit. Awesome.</p><p>Whoever had brought me here clearly didn't like me. And I didn't need three guesses who.</p><p>Brushing poop off my bag, I shouldered it and pushed one of the double doors open, into the sun. Winced as my eyes pounded like twin hearts. Besides the barn there was only a house and a shed, vacant looking. A cow lowed at me. The wind stabbed through the holes in my clothes with ice picks. I heaved my corpse of a body over to a water pump and by <em>God</em> it was painful to summon the water but I did it, and I slaked my thirst, and I filled a bucket for the cow, and then I found the driveway and followed it.</p><p>When I got to the road I tried to figure out where I was. Farmland for a mile in every direction. Didn't recognize this particular stretch, but I could see the radio tower so I kept walking, stomach aching with hunger. Should have checked the house for food. Dumbass. I kept telling myself that I just needed to put some distance between myself and that barn, instead of believing that I just hadn't been thinking at all.</p><p>I heard a vehicle. Under normal circumstances I would have darted off the road in case it was a cultist. Right now it didn't matter. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw an orange, black-striped Mustang. Civilian most likely. I stuck my thumb out. They roared past like I wasn't there, a spray of mud spattering across my already filth-encrusted clothes. I froze, blinking, mouth pursed as they disappeared around the bend. Fuck you, too, bro.</p><p>Looking at myself, I probably wouldn't have stopped either. I looked one chainsaw away from a psycho-killer.</p><p>A mile later my feet took me to a fork in the road. A cultist stood at a checkpoint, finger tapping on the mounted machine gun as he watched me approach. He looked me up and down before fixating black eyes on my face. He smirked. A weird reaction but I didn't give him the satisfaction of walking away, not without nicking his sandwich. I could hear him grumble behind me.</p><p>"One bullet, right between the shoulder blades. They'd never know it was me..."</p><p>But orders were orders and I was not shot. I waved and kept walking.</p><p>I knew where I was after a few more miles. The cattle ranch was visible across a field to the south. I kept west, taking to dirt roads and paths, meeting a couple of Resistance members. They stared at me like the Peggy at the checkpoint, but instead of smirking, they were frowning.</p><p>"Are you...okay?" The woman asked.</p><p>I blinked at her. I was on my feet, wasn't I?</p><p>The man kept his distance, scanning my face. Reading it. "Ain't you that deputy?"</p><p>I grunted and resumed walking. They weren't offering help and I wasn't asking for any.</p><p>It was evening when I finally beheld Fall's End. It looked quiet. As usual. Why John never tried to take it back after I liberated it was a mystery I just didn't give two figs about right now.</p><p>I took one step, and stopped. Couldn't go there like this. Too many questions would be asked, and no doubt Sharky would tear me a new hole for leaving him behind. So I turned south, skirting around the little town until I saw the friendly billboard displaying <em>Carmina</em>, the little floatplane that could.</p><p>Kim Rye didn't ask questions. She yanked me over the threshold of her house and practically threw me into the shower headfirst, and she wouldn't let me out until I had scrubbed my skin raw. I had barely gotten a towel around my waist when she stormed into the bathroom with a sonic boom, pushing me back to sit on the toilet. She was one of the few people I was actually taller than, but I knew she could kick my ass if she wanted.</p><p>"Who did this hack job? You look like a scarecrow." She picked at the crude suture on my temple, more on my chest and arms, all burning with the promise of infection. Whoever had found me by the wreck, and in essence saved me from the Archangel and from bleeding to death, seemed to have never used a thread and needle before. The wounds were barely held shut and she told me she would have to cut them open and disinfect them properly before stitching them back up again. I was in for a good time.</p><p>"Oh, where the fuck is Nick?" she kept hissing, and I wanted to tell her not to bother her hubby with this, because if one whisper reached Fall's End, my friends would come a-runnin', and I would have a small army to help me hunt this Judge down.</p><p>I wouldn't allow it. I wasn't dragging anyone through the mud with me. That part of the plan had not changed.</p><p>She tsk-ed if I hissed and swatted me whenever I recoiled from her ministrations, hydrogen peroxide and curved needles and dental floss filling my world. I found it strange she hadn't yet asked what happened to me, although she could probably deduce enough information by the absence of bullet and stab wounds. For all she knew I'd crashed a fucking plane.</p><p>"Here. Rinse and spit." She shoved a tiny paper cup of mouthwash into my hands and stepped back. I grimaced, knowing what was in store. I poured the lot into my mouth and it took all my willpower to not spray it all over her.</p><p>Holy <em>fuck</em> that stings!</p><p>I forced myself to allow the acidic magma to spread all around my teeth, letting it sizzle against the cut in there, for a whole ten seconds. Then I spat it into the sink. The blue fluid had turned purple.</p><p>Kim tipped the bottle of mouthwash into the cup. "Again."</p><p>I swallowed a groan and obeyed. It was no less painful the second time.</p><p>"Sit."</p><p>I sat on the toilet again, watching warily for more torture devices. Instead Kim brought out the softest one yet – cotton balls. Unscrewing the cap of a small bottle, she pressed a ball to the mouth, tipped it over briefly, then began dabbing at my cheek with the cotton. The smell of acetone assailed my nostrils. I raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p>"I'm a mother. I have to know how to clean this stuff off."</p><p>Clean <em>what</em> off? She pulled the cotton ball away from my nose and I saw black on it before she gave it another dose of nail polish remover.</p><p>Then, distant cries.</p><p>Kim sighed, setting ball and bottle on the vanity. "Wait here. She'll be hungry." She stepped out of the bathroom, and I wasted no time standing and checking myself in the mirror for the first time.</p><p>I looked like two miles of bad road. Cuts, abrasions, bruises, all patched or sewn or salved. But that wasn't what caught my attention; thick black letters, running like a banner across my face, had been written with permanent marker.</p><p>SINNER</p><p>Well at least now I knew why everyone I met today looked at me weirdly.</p><hr/><p>Clean, shaved, and decked in fresh clothes, I was finally let loose – in her living room.</p><p>"You'll stay and get a good meal in you. That's not a suggestion."</p><p>Noted. I sat on the couch because she wouldn't let me help in the kitchen either, and found myself in a staring contest with little Carmina. She was on her bum in a playpen, big eyes watching me owlishly.</p><p>Didn't have kids myself. Never wanted any, not with my current and previous lines of work. Kids needed their parents, and I wouldn't have been there for one. Besides, they were noisy, smelly, needy pooping machines, best observed from a distance. So I did. Goddaughter or not, she was not my kid and I shouldn't get near. My black luck might rub off on her.</p><p>She made a baby noise, waved a baby fist. She had tiny little baby socks on. How old was she now? I'd taken her parents to the clinic on the night of her birth (craziest drive ever) sometime before the first snowfall. So six months at least. I hadn't seen her in two, and was convinced she didn't recognize me.</p><p>"You can hold her."</p><p>I looked over my shoulder. Kim was leaning against the counter, drying her hands in a dish towel. Stress lines were absent from her face, for now.</p><p>"Go on. She won't bite."</p><p>I looked down at the little creature in the pen, then held up my hands uselessly. How?!</p><p>She snorted and shook her head. "She's not a bomb either." Walking over, she scooped Carmina up and set her in my hands. I held her like a sceptre, a holy child offered to the heavens, one hand under her head and shoulders, the other her bum and legs. There I froze, helpless.</p><p>"For Pete's sake! You and Nick were cut from the same cloth." She reached to re-position us, but whirled around as the door opened.</p><p>"Pastor Jerome says hi, Kim... Deputy! It's been a minute." Nick Rye swept off his jacket, kissed his wife, then sat on the other couch, grinning toothily. "Didn't know you were in the neighbourhood...! What happened to your face?"</p><p>I was saved from answering by Carmina squirming. I looked to Kim but she had scuttled back into the kitchen, the hiss of overboiling soup reaching my ears. So I turned to Nick, who was smirking.</p><p>"It's okay, partner. Whatever you do, don't panic."</p><p>I wasn't panicking. But Carmina was mewling now, kicking and trying to box me. Then she started to cry. Now I was panicking!</p><p>Nick chuckled, finally having mercy and taking the wiggling sausage from my hands. "I've seen you jack planes, run through fire and wrestle bears. But put a babe in your hands and you wind up tighter than a nun's knickers. If I didn't know you better, Dep, I'd say you've never held a child in your life!"</p><p>I gave him a flat look, then withheld a smirk as Kim's voice floated from the kitchen.</p><p>"Nick, you wouldn't hold her for a <em>week</em> after we brought her home!"</p><p>The pilot waved an arm towards her voice. "Shush-y-shush! Me and the deputy are talking—" He sniffed. "Whoo! God <em>damn</em>, that's rank." He stood, holding the babe under the armpits. "'Scuse me for two shakes."</p><p>A stench most foul reached my nostrils, and I refrained from scrunching my nose as he left to change her diaper.</p><p>Nope. Never having kids.</p><hr/><p>I slept long and hard that night, blackout curtains fooling my brain into resting deep into the morning. When I finally woke, entangled in blankets, I cursed to myself and nearly fell trying to get out of the Ryes' guest bed. I pulled on the fresh clothes Kim had given me the night before – Nick's – and sneaked downstairs. But as I feared, the couple were up and about, as though waiting for me.</p><p>"Mornin', partner! Hey, you look good in that shirt."</p><p>Kim shepherded me to the table, knowing full well I was going to try to leave, to get out of their hair. And as was the uncanny ability of women like Kim, she had a plate of eggs, bacon and toast hot and ready for me, somehow knowing when I was going to be up before I did.</p><p>Nick was teasing Carmina's itty-bitty toes at the table, making her giggle and kick in her booster seat. Kim sat across from him, hugging a cup of coffee, watching them. They were here, but they were leaving me be. Supporting me without coddling or crowding.</p><p>I didn't deserve friends like them. I didn't deserve any of the friends I made in Hope County. I shouldn't be here, darkening their doorstep with the stench of battle on me, the reaper following me like a shadow, plucking the souls I leave behind like breadcrumbs. Especially now, when John Seed's men tracked my every move, ensuring I was sticking to the terms of our bargain.</p><p>Humph. Bargain. What was <em>I</em> getting out of this? When this bounty was complete my friends would still be in danger, of Marking, of the Reaping. Ironically, those same dangers were what kept them all alive. The Project intended to <em>save</em> everyone, not make corpses of them all.</p><p>Kim noticed the silence from my end of the table.</p><p>"Is everything alright?"</p><p>I had a forkful of eggs halfway up to my mouth. I blinked out of my reverie and nodded.</p><p>No, I definitely did not deserve friends like these.</p><hr/><p>"I'd heard rumours that Seed had you by the short 'n' curlies," said Nick, hanging off of <em>Carmina</em> the plane as he inspected the bullet holes in her hull. "That he's got you huntin' something. Here, pass me that. Now I get that you like to fly solo, but I really wish you'd tell your buddy Nick what's up. Butch and Sundance, remember?"</p><p>I said nothing, pacing a square inside the hangar, around and around Nick's open tool chest. It smelled of solvent and motor oil in here. And I loved it.</p><p>"Kim figures you were in an accident. But I've seen you fly. And I've seen you drive. It warn't no simple accident, was it? Damn, they nearly hit my fuel line. That would have been messy."</p><p>I helped him remove a panel, exposing the plane's insides, and he began treating her like Kim treated me the night before; gingerly tending to wounds, gentle even if the application wasn't.</p><p>"I mean you must've figured out what Seed's <em>really</em> doin' here," said Nick. "Hibernation's over, and the Peggies wanna get reapin' again, but guys like you and me are still kickin'. Still willing to defend what's ours. So he's got you on some wild suicidal sandgoose chase. He's <em>distracting</em> you, Deputy."</p><p>I paused at that. Like Sharky, every once in a while something insightful would come out of Nick, reminding me that I wasn't good at seeing the bigger picture sometimes. True, the Archangel needed to be dealt with, but it had never occurred to me that John was stoning two birds by sending <em>me</em> after it. I couldn't raid outposts or help civilians or reclaim stolen property if I was chasing a monster through the forest.</p><p>"We've been under Seed's boot for a long time, now. I know what it's like. Talk to me, man. I can help. Me and <em>Carmina</em> owe you."</p><p>But I couldn't talk to him, and he knew it, and he let me go later that day. But it was a drawn and disappointed expression behind those dark aviators.</p><p>
  <em>I'm sorry, Nick. It's for the best. This is my fight. Because if I go down, then at least I go down alone.</em>
</p><hr/><p>I wanted a tank. An Iron Man suit. A fucking AT-AT Walker. ANYTHING other than a junky half-ton or two-bit quad. But I didn't have any of that, and there was no use in fantasizing about blowing the Archangel to bits with repulsors or lasers. I had to make use of what was real and what I had access to. And what I had access to was <em>The</em> <em>Widowmaker.</em></p><p>"I don't know what you're going to do with this, but as I said, you don't even gotta ask," said Mary May, throwing me the keys.</p><p>The violently purple, flamed paint job was as subtle as a firework in a Trappist monastery and I felt like a circus show roaring down the highway. Preferring a quieter, stealthier approach, this was akin to me running into a Peggy outpost with my hair on fire, shooting flares and pulling a banner saying 'I AM HERE.' Trying to sneak up on the Archangel had bitten me on the ass, and luring it with Bliss had worked <em>too</em> well. But I was going to have to use both techniques again, only this time, not so stupidly.</p><p><em>The</em> <em>Widowmaker</em> roared beneath me, eagerly charging ahead, seeking things to destroy. Without trailers these things hauled ass, yet still had enough weight behind them to pulverize a bison. And I felt it. The thrill of power, of bold over stealth, of smashing through instead of delicately picking apart. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. I leaned forward, and I imagined making road-kill of the Archangel before driving this beauty up to John Seed's ranch and ramming it down his fucking throat—</p><p>"<em>To be honest, Deputy, we'd thought you'd given up.</em>"</p><p>Aaand my buzz withered like a pecker at a phone book convention.</p><p>"<em>Wouldn't have blamed you,</em>" said John, smirk heard through the radio static. "<em>But I guess you do care more about your friends than you let on.</em>"</p><p>I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, and I had to resist the urge to chuck my radio out the window. How easily this turd got under my skin.</p><p>"<em>I've been informed that you've upgraded your transport. A novel idea, but regretfully, a shade too late. During your...intermission, I decided to have my men track the Judge, to save you some time. And while </em>you'll<em> fit, your rig won't.</em>"</p><p>There was several seconds of silence, as though John was waiting on me to beg for details. The sun would die before that happened.</p><p>He seemed to smell my stink-eye through the waves, and said, "<em>The Judge has gone north, towards the Whitetail Mountains, and has shown no signs of slowing down. Haven't been there in a while, have you? My brother's missed you so. You. Only...you.</em>"</p><p>I nearly wrenched the dial off my radio switching the channel, because with those two words my world swam with red and I almost swerved off the road. A hunger I wasn't feeling tore at my stomach and my lips curled into a snarl before I could stop myself. Sonuvabitch, it had been weeks but still, <em>still</em> that song—</p><p>I stuffed the end of an unlit cigarette in my mouth and fumbled with the dash until I found the stereo volume, which I cranked until the windows rattled.</p><p>
  <em>Down on the corner, out in the street,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Willy and the Poorboys are playing,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bring a nickle, tap your feet!</em>
</p><p>Fuck yeah, nothing like some CCR to drown out the Red. But my mood was sullied, because I couldn't bring my ride, because I was pushing my friends away, because I was on the brink of going berserk upon hearing two words of a romance song, <em>and</em> because I was fated to wander back within reach of Jacob's long, mind-altering fingers. Willingly.</p><p>The hiss of static, and then John's voice came over <em>The </em><em>Widowmaker'</em>s radio, on a different frequency from mine.</p><p>"<em>That was rude, Deputy. I wasn't done talking</em>."</p><p>Fucking <em>hell</em>, this man was going to outlive the goddamn <em>planet</em> just to have the last word.</p><p>I regretfully turned the stereo down, but it was lucky I did, by what I heard next.</p><p>"<em>You should know, I've spoken to Jacob about our little agreement and, although he is reluctant, I convinced him to grant you the same graces I have, in the Whitetails. Immunity and access to resources, so long as you abstain from slaughtering his soldiers. And I would advise you to keep your nose out of any other business while you're there, too. Jacob isn't as patient as I am.</em>"</p><p>He was referring to the Whitetail Militia. Damn, this wasn't getting any easier.</p><p>"<em>Good luck, little deputy. Until we meet again. Which, I pray, will be very, very soon. You will atone. You will say </em>y—"</p><p>I cranked the stereo again.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck off.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This thing liked mountains, no mistake. And it used them to elude me time and time again.</p><p>I was a man, not a mountain goat, and although the Archangel's wake was as obvious as a meteorite's, it was getting harder and harder to follow as it scaled sheer cliffs, jumped ravines and generally took routes I simply could not. Didn't help that winter was in its death throes, and flurries forced me into caves and under outcroppings to wait them out.</p><p>For three days I climbed up and down those mountains, barely sleeping, eating almost nothing, until at last my trembling arms could not pull me up another ledge. I rolled against a cliff outcrop, the stone like ice despite my jacket, and tried to breathe life into my hands.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking Jesus.</em>
</p><p>I could have risked a plane or chopper. The Judge's path of destruction could be seen from space. But with the squalls blustering through the county, it was too chancy. Even the Chosen hadn't taken to the air for days, which would have been beneficial to me in any other situation.</p><p>It also meant if I was pinned, neither Nick Rye nor Adelaide Drubman would be able to provide air support, even if I was inclined to ask for it.</p><p>Shivering violently, I pulled out my radio. The first day in the Whitetail region, I got calls from Eli Palmer, who'd overheard part of the conversation between John and Jacob via tapped phone line. He'd asked me how I was involved, but I never replied. Jess Black had sent a greeting, as did Wheaty and Hurk Jr, but Jacob ignored me until my batteries started dying. Unable to find more before climbing up the mountains, I started keeping the radio off most of the time.</p><p>A mistake. I was in a void now. Blind, deaf, and lost in the wilderness with a monster. Alone. Hungry. Cold. Exhausted...</p><p>I shook myself awake and forced myself to my feet. I could not fall asleep now. If I did, I would not wake up. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, massaging the fatigue, and then looked out over the valley.</p><p>It was snowing, the flakes so light they simply swirled on the wind, unable to land. The sky was iron grey; I figured it was dusk. It was time to find shelter.</p><p>Fuck it. I was getting a full night's sleep this time. Couldn't keep up with the Archangel anyway, and I was going to have to change tactics.</p><p>It was a conundrum, one I pondered as I climbed back down three ledges to investigate a shadow I'd seen earlier. Until it came here, the Archangel had been drawn to Bliss. But there wasn't much Bliss in the north, and none up the mountains. I was higher than the most remote wolf beacons. What was this thing doing? I had no intention of engaging it once I caught up, of course. I needed to observe it. I needed to find its Achilles' Heel.</p><p>The shadow turned out to be little more than a crevice, tunnelling deep into the rock. It was shelter from the wind, anyway, and I was able to wiggle and worm inside feet-first and get decently comfortable, using my pack as a pillow and windbreaker. I nibbled on a protein bar, and then I was too damn tired to even cram the remnants into a pocket before...</p><hr/><p>Screams.</p><p>I woke to them echoing across the mountains, clinging to the wind. I wormed out of the tunnel and stood on a ledge overlooking the whole of Hope County. There was Snowshoe Lake...I think...and through shreds of cloud I could see the radar station, the distant statue of Joseph...</p><p>There they were again. Screams. Who the hell was wandering around up here?!</p><p>They sounded masculine, and they sounded terrified. Definitely not a cougar, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a bird cry twisted and warped by echoes. I wanted to go to them, but with the wind and the cliffs, it was impossible to tell which way the sound was coming from.</p><p>I scanned anyway, cursing, pulling my hat over my ears and yanking my hood up. The wind sliced at my cheeks, had dried my lips so they cracked and wept. I tasted pennies.</p><p>Then I saw it. A flicker, a distant candle, but unmistakable; a fire. Crazy motherfucker.</p><p>Further down the canyon, it was less than a click away, as the crow flew, but I was not a crow. And I didn't think to bring a 'chute, even if that were a wise course of action. I was going to have to hoof it.</p><p>The wind buffeted the canyon as I descended, teasing me with gusts, threatening to pluck me off the cliff and send me into oblivion. I was forced to stop and warm my bandaged hands regularly, and I never stopped moving, not even when I rested, not even when I wanted to curl up and sleep the cold away.</p><p><em>The further down I go, the warmer it'll be</em>, I lied to myself, my back pressed against one side of a vertical crevasse, my hands and feet against the other. It was less than twenty feet down, and there was a wide ledge below, but it was scary as fuck. I didn't breathe properly until my boots were firmly planted on that ledge. To my left a promising goat trail led off into the mists. Ahead and down, on the other side of the canyon, was the fire. The scream came again, wordless and horrified.</p><p>I could be rushing to save a Peggy, for all I knew.</p><p>No. <em>No</em>, I was going after the Archangel. If it <em>was</em> a Peggy, I would let Jacob know they were an asset in hunting the Judge down and their sacrifice would be remembered. By someone who gave a shit.</p><p>I scuttled sideways along the ledge until I saw a waterfall. It had been what created this canyon, digging deeper and deeper into the mountain over some crazy-ass number of years. A vertical, never-healing wound. The waterfall was frozen, mostly, some water still trickling by. It severed the ledge I was on and kept going. I could see my trail continuing along on the other side of the canyon. Too far to jump from here. But maybe closer to the waterfall...</p><p>My path ended, next to the frozen pillar. I cursed, looking up, down, back, and forward. The drop was sheer below me. The rock face rose at an overhanging angle above me. Retreating wasn't an option.</p><p>"Forward it is."</p><p>I pulled my pack from my shoulders, hefting it by the strap and swinging it to and fro, gauging the distance. If I missed, there'd go my weapons, food, canteen...</p><p>
  <em>So don't miss.</em>
</p><p>I let it fly, higher than the opposite ledge, but low enough so that it wouldn't hit the rock wall and bounce off. I nearly cheered as it touched down and rolled, safe on the other side.</p><p>Now for the scarier part.</p><p>I edged closer to the frozen waterfall, wary of ice and rock smoothed by centuries of erosion. When I was close enough to the frozen pillar to touch it, I judged it to be a six foot jump from my side to the other. It would be a standing jump, with a precarious take-off <em>and</em> landing. I shuffled my feet. Bent my knees. Shuffled my feet again.</p><p>
  <em>Okay. Just do it. Now. Alright...aaaand, now! Dammit.</em>
</p><p>Couldn't do it. I was cold, I was exhausted, and if I fell it was going to be a painful way to die. The fall might not even kill me. Just bounce me between outcrops of rock until every bone shattered and then I'd land in a pool and break through the ice and I'd drown, unable to swim with broken limbs, crushed in cold and dark and no one would ever find me—</p><p>A snap, a click. I looked back the way I'd come in time to see a stone plummet from on high, bounce off my ledge and then plunge into the abyss. I didn't hear it land.</p><p>I opened my mouth to call out, and I'm not sure if my big-boy brain told me to shut up or if my throat was just too dry to speak, but nothing came out. Didn't matter. If I had a follower, making this jump might shake them.</p><p>
  <em>You're a bird. You're a deer. You can take on men twice your weight and you make a mean chicken romanoff. You can do this!</em>
</p><p>Self-encouragement lacking, nevertheless I summoned all my strength to my legs and launched myself over the void, spurred by fear, driven by determination to clear a jump longer than I was tall and—</p><p>I nearly ripped my nails off as I grabbed that ledge and my body slammed into the face below, knocking the air from my chest. A jut of ice jabbed into my ribs, and the adrenaline was so strong I nearly lost the strength in my arms before they could pull me up, hands clawing for purchase, one leg hooking around a rise in the rock to help me up the rest of the way.</p><p>I log-rolled from the edge, back pressed against the wall, heart beating up a storm. I laughed. Just a breathy chuckle, then I sighed, smeared damp hair from my forehead and got up, swaggering over to my pack and swinging it onto my shoulder.</p><p>Cake.</p><p>The ledge took me away from the waterfall, winding along the canyon until it broke into layers of ledges again. The further down I went, the less ice there was, but I was still wary. One lapse of judgment was all it took. The wind had lessened too, after sweeping much of the mists away, and I was able to see where someone had made camp with my binoculars.</p><p>It was a shallow basin between the two mountains, ringed by trees and cloven by the river. Patches of snow were outnumbered by new greens, death making way for life, as always. There were two tents, some discarded debris, loose papers. No bodies.</p><p>Pocketing the binoculars, I clambered down the rest of the way and knelt in the grass, scanning the clearing around the camp. Why they had to have it in the middle of all this open space was beyond me. Plenty of trees out there to shelter them from the wind and prying eyes, but <em>noooo</em>. Had to be <em>there</em>, where I would have to expose myself in order to find clues, where my follower would be able to see me from a distance.</p><p>The thought made me look back, up the canyon. I watched for several minutes. Nothing moved. Might have just been a rock breaking free. Maybe I just wanted to believe that.</p><p>I had to trust whoever it was knew I was under the Seeds' protection, and that disregarding my temporary immunity would be met with a very painful, humiliating consequence...Of course, there were a lot of hidey-holes out here. Plenty of places to conceal a scrawny little body like mine. And anything could go wrong in these treacherous passes. <em>Anything</em>.</p><p>I was stalling and I knew it. The longer I squatted here the colder and less limber I became. I pulled out my sawed-off and eased out of my hiding spot.</p><p>I'd watched plenty of deer growing up, hunting with Pop. I copied their habit, scanning for movement, listening for disturbances, smelling for...</p><p>Yep. Bliss. Not strong, but the Archangel had definitely been here. Or...I stilled, tensing at the sound of howls. Not normal howls. The haunting, mutated sirens of Judge Wolves. The canyon amplified the sounds, making them seem both distant and far, a single throat and several.</p><p>I had to chance it. Judges were rarely without their masters, and so they would be controlled...hopefully.</p><p>I stepped into the clearing, senses revved, heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat. The doubt that had been plaguing me for the past several days swelled, and I had to force it back.</p><p>
  <em>No. I'm doing this alone and that's that. I won't risk anyone else over this.</em>
</p><p>Feeling like I was in a spotlight, I picked my way into the campsite. The smell of Bliss was stronger here, and I saw both Wolf and Archangel tracks amidst the dance of boots. There were discarded arrows and shells, a spatter of blood. And there, a radio.</p><p>I reached for it just as it chirped to life.</p><p>"<em>Benson, you there? Come in. What is your status, over?</em>"</p><p><em>Benson can't come to the phone right now.</em> I picked it up, looking around. The Chosen were slippery buggers, and there had been at least two here, if the tents were anything to go by. The howls of Judges came again. Definitely sounded closer.</p><p>"<em>We've sent backup as requested. There's a chopper inbound now that the fog has lifted. Please respond. If you can hear this, if you're hurt...Come in, Benson...Rufus, are you there?</em>"</p><p>The useless and repetitive babbling of a dispatcher who could do nothing from so far away. At least I knew one thing. More Chosen were en route, and I needed to make myself scarce.</p><p>I stole the batteries from the radio and slipped them into my own. I turned it on, the volume down low. I had only just clipped it back onto my belt when I heard the harrowing scream once more. I turned towards the sound, and realized two things. One, it was the exact same scream I'd heard earlier, as though it were a recording, and two, there were bleached eyes watching me from the grass.</p><p>A growl, and then the Judge Wolf was charging me. I whipped up my burnt-orange shotgun and blasted the monster's chest apart. It was still running before it realized it was dead, and when it collapsed it had a manic gleam in its eyes.</p><p>I froze, listening for more. And more there were.</p><p>I snapped the gun open and slipped in a fresh shell so I had two at the ready. But there were more than two Wolves, and they surged out of the surrounding trees like ghostly arrows, a whole pack of them. And they were coming for me.</p><p>I shot one. I shot two. I braced the shotgun against a Judge going for my neck. And then they were on me, all fangs and fur and fury and <em>holy fuck</em> I went down, their jaws clamped around my arms and legs, ripping my clothes, yanking me in so many different directions I couldn't pull away. And then a set of teeth found my throat and I knew it was all over—</p><p>"Hold him. <em>Hold</em>."</p><p>The order was heeded – pulling as hard as they were, none of them were drawing blood, but I could feel the trembling in their jaws, hot saliva oozing over my skin, oh-so-eager to rip flesh from bone. The one with its teeth around my throat was almost whining, already biting a bit harder than its brethren. Its whiskers pricked under my chin. Its eyes were squinting. Its breath was hot on my neck. I tried not to swallow, almost hyperventilating with terror.</p><p>The surrounding wall of blanched fur parted slightly and a tall figure came into view. And no-fucking-way. It was Jacob Seed himself.</p><p>"Hello, pup," he said. Smiling without warmth. "Welcome home."</p><p>I wanted to scowl. I wanted to bare my teeth in defiance. But I was too fucking scared. Of him. Of his hellhounds. The last time I'd seen him, it was from the inside of a cage, where he had made me feel so small, so insignificant, and I'd been so hungry, and when I got out I ran. Ran from the Whitetails, back to the Holland Valley in the middle of winter and never looked back.</p><p>I was always going to return. One day. I just hadn't imagined it would be like this.</p><p>"I see you've taken my brother's threats to heart," he said in that low, smouldering way of his. This man could command an army without ever raising his voice. "Very wise. But unlike him, I wouldn't have bothered. You're already mine."</p><p>His Judge clamped harder on my neck as though to drive the point home. Wasn't needed. Point was there, snug as a bug in a porcelain mug.</p><p>A thumping sound. Jacob turned, scanning the sky, and then he knelt, looking me over. Smiling again. "I admire the fact you've made it this far. I understand this...Archangel is difficult to keep up with, despite its obvious wake. But you're still too slow, and it is putting this Project in jeopardy."</p><p>A chopper moved in to hover nearby, buffeting grass and fur and Jacob's hair. The drone of quads echoed through the basin. The Alpha kept his eyes locked on mine and I couldn't look away.</p><p>"I know what you're thinking. You have immunity. Yeah, about that. See, John doesn't know how much I want you alive right now. That I've had a change of heart. I don't mean to kill you. And you know...he didn't say anything about not <em>capturing</em> you."</p><p>Fuck. Fuck, <em>fuck</em>.</p><p>"Now here's what's gonna happen. My Hunters are going to bring you home, where you'll be nicely out of the way. And then we're—"</p><p>He stopped. The look that crossed his face told me he wasn't used to being interrupted. Shouts were echoing from the trees. Warnings. The purring roars of quads accelerating, and then a familiar bellow that told me things were going to get even <em>more</em> interesting.</p><p>Both our radios chirped in sync.</p><p>"<em>Sir, I can see it! I can see the</em>—Oh my God!"</p><p>The chopper pitched to the side but it was too slow to avoid the quad spinning through the air towards it. It slammed into the chopper's underbelly, making it roll as debris shot up into the propellers. They shattered like twigs and it plunged like a stone, not thirty feet away, the shriek of metal forcing me back to that night, that first night when we opened a door we couldn't close.</p><p>And then I was screaming, because the sound startled the Judges and they bit down harder, tugged, tore, broke skin. With the smell of blood they forgot their orders and heeded their instincts. To kill.</p><p>"Goddamn— <em>Heel</em>."</p><p>The butt of a red rifle cracked down on the leader's head and they all stilled, growling rebelliously. I swallowed a whimper, unwilling to show weakness. But Jacob's focus was elsewhere. No doubt seeking what had thrown the quad into the chopper.</p><p>"I see why John wants this creature put down," he said coolly, as though discussing a controversial move at a golf game.</p><p>On cue came the Archangel's roar, then screams, snapping trees, tearing earth. Detonating grenades and the rapid pops of assault weapons. Jacob raised his rifle, aimed, and fired. The resulting bellow confirmed a hit.</p><p>"No doubt my brother will carry out his threat, when we take this thing down for you," he said, shooting again. He was stock-still when he aimed. A seasoned marksman. "That's not my problem. You had your chance, pup."</p><p>Hadn't thought of that. Although I wasn't as convinced that John would have my friends shot for not completing the bounty myself, I wouldn't put it past him either. Anger was swiftly overcoming fear and I struggled. Air hissed through my teeth as I snarled. The Judges were unfazed.</p><p>"I've never seen anything like it." The Alpha shot again, still calm, as though watching his Hunters getting ripped apart was an everyday affair. "I tried to convince Joseph to stop the use of Bliss, did you know that? This is one of the reasons."</p><p>His expression changed slightly, and I could tell the fight was going the wrong way. As I knew it would. These fuckers had no idea.</p><p>"Eighty-two, hold. The rest of you, on me."</p><p>Dr Perkins was right. These hellhounds followed human commands. All of the Judges released me except Eighty-two, which bit on my neck even harder, warning me not to move as its brethren surrounded Jacob and they moved out of my field of view.</p><p>Judges were vicious, prone to flying into a berserker rage when they smelled fresh blood. But even they whimpered and yelped when hurt, and that's all I heard for the next several seconds. That, and Jacob's rifle.</p><p><em>Let it kill him</em>, I pleaded. <em>If it's going to kill anyone, let it be him</em>.</p><p>I had to get out of this. I moved my arm and my trachea paid the price. The Wolf's tongue was pressed against the tender flesh of my throat. I could feel it moving around, hot and slimy. I was going to have the gnarliest hickey ever.</p><p>
  <em>Shhh-thwack!</em>
</p><p>The Judge yelped and released me, turning to bite at the fire arrow buried in its hindquarters. The flames spread as the beast ran, seeking its attacker, fortunately in the wrong direction.</p><p>My limbs were seized with terror. Adrenaline greased them, slowly, and I was like a newborn fawn as I got up and ran for the trees.</p><p>Didn't know why, but I suddenly dove for the ground. A <em>crack</em>, then dirt exploded a few feet away. Jacob had just tried to shoot me.</p><p>I heard the familiar creak of a drawn compound bow, the <em>shoop</em> of an arrow released. Then a second. I took what cover fire I could get and scrambled to my feet, bolting into the trees. I couldn't see my savior, especially when I was serpentining between the trunks. Then my radio was whispering.</p><p>"<em>Conrad, he's on top of you.</em>"</p><p>These people were true hunters. Always mindful of their packmates' positions. Jacob knew where this Conrad was, where I was, and now Conrad was stepping out from behind a tree, arrow already nocked, sighted, released—</p><p>My 1911 blasted Conrad's brains out just as his arrow thudded into my thigh. And Jesus Fucking <em>Christ</em>, not<em> again!</em> At such a close range it had punched clean through, the head sticking out the back of my leg, but its poison was in me. I swayed, gasping with pain. I wanted to pull it out. My hands curled into claws, an invisible force preventing me from grasping the arrow shaft. I fell, frothing at the mouth, the Red filling my vision like mist, and then the last of my strength abandoned me. The last thing I saw was a hooded figure kneeling over me...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Brave <em>hombre</em> but he's as dumb as a sack of hammers."</p><p>The first thing I heard as my consciousness surfaced from the depths of oblivion. I was warm, too warm, and stiff with bandages. Forcing my eyes open, I saw mottled orange and brown and black. Pulsing. I blinked. It was the roof of a cave, lit by a fire. The voice, male, spoke again. It was like I had cotton stuffed in my ears.</p><p>"I mean, come <em>on</em>. He's got some serious hero-complex thing goin' on."</p><p>"Don't let him hear you say that. He gets testy when people call him a hero. But...I can't tell you how many firefights we've been through together, and not once has he peed himself; that makes him a goddamn hero in my books."</p><p>I shifted, uncomfortable, stifling a groan as pain tore through my thigh. The voices stopped guiltily. I turned my head, squinting against the heat and light, to behold three figures around the fire, all looking at me.</p><p>"You're finally awake!" said one. Sharky?</p><p>"Thought you were going to sleep through the Collapse, there, Chief." Luke? How...?</p><p>The third was hooded, face lost in shadow. But I recognized her now, as I should have recognized her when she was kneeling over me, just before I passed out.</p><p>"You need to work on your forestry skills," said Jess Black. "I could have followed you in the dark."</p><p>"I'm sure he's happy to see you too, Jess," said Sharky. He grinned at me. "Surprised? I've been searching for you for days, ever since you <em>ditched</em> <em>my</em> <em>ass</em>. I mean how rude was that? I open my heart to you and you leave me in butt-fuck Fall's End with a splittin' headache, and I hear you crashed a plane or some shit, and then <em>The </em><em>Widowmaker's</em> gone, and then it's back, and then—"</p><p>"Hell's bells, tiger, ease off the gas a little," said Luke Lee. Shadows were dancing across the not-yet-healed gashes on his nose and cheek, where the Judge Cougar had nearly ripped his face off weeks ago. The hunter turned to me, tipping his head towards Sharky. "Found this bozo blundering around while I was looking for you. Decided I was done lying around over some kitty scratches."</p><p>"Yeah, that's what you get for messing with the wrong <em>pussy!</em>" Sharky cackled.</p><p>"Fuck a dog, Boshaw."</p><p>"Both of them were knee deep in God's armpit when I found them," said Jess, eye roll heard rather than seen.</p><p>Sharky sat up. "Hey, I had the situation completely under control!"</p><p>"You were stuck under a chain link fence," came the bland reply.</p><p>"I had his ass covered," said Luke indignantly.</p><p>"<em>You</em> were running as though your pants were on fire. Because they were literally on fire."</p><p>"Wasn't my fault! I didn't start that fire, <em>he</em> did."</p><p>"And if I hadn't, those Bliss tanks woulda been shipped all over the county." Sharky crossed his arms. "So you're welcome."</p><p>"They were <em>empty,</em>" Jess snarled.</p><p>"And now they'll have to find something else to store Bliss in!"</p><p>"Hey, ladies, our fearless leader's getting up," said Luke.</p><p>I was, and it hurt, what with the battering from the half-ton incident, and then when I was nearly ripped apart by Judges and skewered by a Hunter. Tenderized and shredded, liked pulled-pork off a taffy puller. Kebabbed.</p><p>"Easy does it." Sharky grabbed my arm and yarded on me until I was on my ass, despite my pained groan.</p><p>"You've got the healer's touch, Sharky," said Jess flatly.</p><p>"So I've been told. I'm really good at poetry, too. Wanna hear some?"</p><p>"Later. And by later I mean never."</p><p>Luke scuttled over, passing me a canteen. "We've got some soup warming up here. Hang tight, Chief."</p><p>"That's racist," said Sharky. "Calling an Indian 'chief.'"</p><p>"Calling him an Indian is racist," Luke countered.</p><p>"Oh, so now <em>I'm</em> racist, because I'm white, right?"</p><p>"Oh my God."</p><p>"Hey, I am the least racist person you know. You're, like, what? Chinese?"</p><p>"Ma's Vietnamese," Luke droned. "Dad's a whiteboy."</p><p>"And I think that's cool! Like, I love Chinese food, and I'm sure Vietnamese food is good too. 'Cause Vietnamese is close to China, right?"</p><p>"Fucking hell, you two." Jess eased an opened can of soup away from the fire as the boys bickered, wrapping it in a rag. She passed it over to me with a spoon. "Sorry, but I couldn't ditch 'em. It would have been like leaving two babies in the middle of the woods."</p><p>I grunted in agreement and attacked the can. Burnt my tongue but it was worth it, dousing the ache in my gut. By my lack of fuzzy mouth and the absence of a headache, my friends had kept me hydrated while unconscious, but I felt like I hadn't eaten in days.</p><p>Jess sat next to me, and we watched the verbal skirmish with mild amusement, Luke insisting that Pho soup had nothing to do with making stew out of bad guys.</p><p>"Didn't think you'd come back," she said softly, one of the few times I'd heard her without barbs on her tongue. "Wouldn't have blamed you. I've seen what Jacob does to people...not as closely as you have, obviously. But close."</p><p>I grunted again, nose buried in the soup can.</p><p>"Eli put me on the scent. Said you never radioed him but he could tell something was up." I could see her turn to me from the corner of my eye. "Why didn't you tell him about...that...<em>thing?</em>"</p><p>I just looked at her, and she sighed.</p><p>"Right. The strong, silent type. Maestro Mysterioso."</p><p>"And a snakehead is a <em>fish</em>, not a sex toy," Luke snapped at Sharky.</p><p>"Boshaw filled me in, pretty well," Jess continued. "John Seed's got you hog-tied. Heard you took care of the other rogue Judges on your own. That's pretty dope."</p><p>"Luke was with me." It came out as a rasp. I cleared my throat and sipped from the canteen.</p><p>"Right, right. Guess you needed bait."</p><p>I looked sharply to her. She was almost smiling.</p><p>"Look. I get you want to protect your friends. I'm guessing after Luke got hurt, you vowed to never let anyone back you up on that shit again, right...? Seed didn't order you to do this alone, Dep."</p><p>I bought time by scratching at the can with the spoon for the last dribbles of soup, the familiar feel and sound of utensil sliding over corrugated steel a strange comfort.</p><p>"I've never even <em>been</em> to Vietnam," Luke cried. "I'm a full-blooded American. Ma was too!"</p><p>"Hey, man, I think all are welcome in the great U.S of A," said Sharky, throwing up his hands. "Vietnamese, Chinese, blacks, browns, Munchkins and those little teddy-bear things from Star Wars..."</p><p>"Although I don't blame you for not wanting to bring these two blockheads along," said Jess blandly, as Luke threatened to shove Sharky's shotgun down his gullet.</p><p>Personally I found their squabble heartening. I felt lighter than I had in ages, more than I should, really.</p><p>"Been listening to a few radio channels." Jess pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around her shins. "Jacob's alive, in case you were wondering. Lost a shit ton of manpower, though. And dogs. Everyone's talking about it. And yet no one's reported any sightings of the Archangel for hours. The only stuff they see is what it leaves behind. Fucking thing's on a warpath. Been following the mountains east. It'll either leave, or go south."</p><p>It wouldn't leave. What it craved most was in this valley. And without copious amounts of Bliss to appease it here in the north, it would go elsewhere. I had a hunch it was headed for the worst place in Hope County. The Henbane River.</p><p>"Once the storm's passed, the Peggies will get some eyes in the sky. We'll pick up the trail from there."</p><p>Hold on. We? I glared at her again. But she didn't get squeamish like Luke, or fawn like Sharky. Her eyes blazed with black fire.</p><p>"You're <em>not</em> doing this by yourself, Dep. Look at you. If we hadn't found you..." She bit her cheek, scowl deepening. "I get it. I like hunting alone, too. I think better. No distractions. But this...this is different. I saw that Judge throw a quad at the helicopter and nearly shit myself... Look. If you want to take it out 'on your own,' fine. You'll just happen to be followed by a small army. No biggie."</p><p>"No, I have never eaten a cat!" Luke snapped.</p><p>"Will you two give it a rest!" Jess barked. "Fucking children."</p><p>Sharky sat back like a dog. "For you, Jess, because you asked so nicely."</p><p>"I'm giving it more of a rest than you are," said Luke.</p><p>"Nuh-uh."</p><p>"Yeah-huh!"</p><p>Jess seized her bow, and a sudden silence filled the cave. I feigned vast interest in the embossed label of the canteen. When the huntress relaxed, so did the tension.</p><p>"Still several hours until dawn. We'll catch a few Z's, then leave at first light," she ordered.</p><p>"We gotta skedaddle south right away," said Sharky, finally sounding serious. "Johnny-boy said that if the deputy kills any Peggies, shit's goin' down. I don't know what that means exactly—"</p><p>I squirmed.</p><p>"—But there it is. You said he wigged one. Yeah, it was in self-defence, but Jacob-bake Seed ain't gonna mention that part. Neither is the dead Peggy."</p><p>Shit. I'd forgotten about that. It had been instinctual. Reflex. And when John found out...</p><p>"I don't think we should go anywhere," said Luke. He nodded at my leg. "Not with you like that. You're going back on crutches."</p><p>"We can't stay here, we're sitting ducks," Jess argued.</p><p>Sharky piped in. "I know where I left my ride. I can get it most of the way here easily enough."</p><p>"...Fine. But he stays here until then," said Luke. "It's too cold to be wandering around with injuries like that."</p><p>"I'm not sleepy. I'll go right now." Sharky went to stand but Jess stopped him.</p><p>"And brain yourself trying to climb down a mountain in the dark in the middle of a squall? Don't be dumb. Er. Relax. You and I will go at dawn." She turned to Luke. "And you'll make sure the deputy doesn't wander off, even if you have to tie him to yourself."</p><p>I knew that was a jab at my size, but decided to let it slide. Sleep was coming in hot.</p><p>"Aw, look. You ever see those videos of kittens and puppies falling asleep where they sit?" Sharky tipped his chin at me.</p><p>"Alright. Bedtime, ladies." Jess shooed the boys away from me, then helped me lie down. "We got this, Dep. Don't worry."</p><p>I wasn't worried. I wasn't alone anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as I loathed the stuff, I took a dose of Bliss before we set out, at the insistence of everyone else. I wanted to fight through the pain, but had to admit, I would just slow us down.</p><p>Always kept a few vials of Bliss oil on me, for such occasions. When mixed with the local flora properly, it could mean the difference between life and death...and sober and high.</p><p>"Golly, popo. I think there was a bit too much Bliss in that one," said Sharky, watching me sway, my gaze vacant.</p><p>Didn't remember much of the trip down the mountain from Jess's cave, to where Sharky had managed to get his truck, but once aboard I came crashing down and <em>motherfucker</em>, getting kicked in the jewels was more fun than this.</p><p>"How 'bout you try <em>not</em> driving over every rock on the mountain?" Jess groaned, as the whole truck jerked mightily and we all jerked about with it.</p><p>I swallowed every whimper, clutching my left leg to keep it as still as possible. I glared at the bandages as they gradually stained pink. At least the scar was going to match the one on my right. And I had to agree with what Luke had said before. It took weeks to be able to walk without a crutch the first time I took an arrow, even with Bliss compounds to help. And even after it healed I couldn't walk properly. I was going to have a limp forever.</p><p>Beside me, Luke, who'd elected to remain in the cab when he discovered that trying to stand in the turret was akin to riding a bull, was throwing me concerned looks. But I turned my gaze out my window. I couldn't show weakness to those choosing to follow me.</p><p>There was a collective sigh of relief when we lurched out of the last ditch and onto a dirt road.</p><p>"Alright, so now where?" Sharky asked the air.</p><p>No one looked at me, but they didn't need to. I filled my lungs, released through my nose.</p><p>"Henbane."</p><hr/><p>"Did we win the war here or...?" Sharky said after a few miles on ghost roads.</p><p>It was haunting. After crossing the railway bridge on the east side of Silver Lake, we passed almost no one on our drive south. Saw a couple stray Angels, a few civilians, but no Peggy patrols. We kept to the dirt roads mostly, Sharky knowing the shortest route to his trailer park, but even the main ways were strangely devoid of people.</p><p>"Still think we should find somewhere closer to crash," muttered Luke. "My folks' old place—"</p><p>"You said it was half blown away," said Sharky. "And Dep agrees with me – I got defences, and food, and a kickass sound system. We go to your parents' place and, what, throw a Parcheesi board at whoever bothers us?"</p><p>"Dad had an arsenal!"</p><p>"Had. HAD. Not much good now, is it?"</p><p>"I'm saying they didn't play Parcheesi. I don't even know what Parcheesi is!"</p><p>"See, it's this game where—"</p><p>Jess crushed an old beer can. "If you two don't shut up right now I will twist you together into a pretzel."</p><p>Dusk had fallen by the time we arrived at the Moonflower Trailer Park. When we stopped, I didn't want to get out. I fucking <em>hated</em> this region, not because of the inhabitants, like in the Whitetails, or because of the leader, like in the Holland Valley. But because the very fabric of this place was vague, hazy and indistinct, and if it weren't for the two men in the vehicle with me, I doubted I would be convinced I'd been here before at all.</p><p>"Need help?" Luke asked, misinterpreting my hesitation. I mumbled and opened the door, sliding out my right leg before easing out my left. Jess was there, grabbing hold of me as I slipped off the seat. The one foot drop felt like a thousand, and my whole body seized, a pained grunt escaping through gritted teeth.</p><p>"Jeez, popo, you look like a clenched butthole," said Sharky. "You don't have to put on the 'tough-guy' suit around us. We get it. It hurts. Just scream already, you'll feel better."</p><p>I doubted that, but I let them help me into Sharky's trailer, his "summer abode."</p><p>"My home is your home. Just...wipe your boots, would ya? Just waxed the floor."</p><p>They sat me at the booth, then Jess checked my bandages while Luke scrounged around for food.</p><p>"Uuuh, why is there a jar of ants in here?"</p><p>"Aw, shit! I forgot about my ant farm!" Sharky reached past Luke into a cupboard, pulling out a pickle jar with some dirt, twigs and tiny black corpses. "Poor little dudes."</p><p>Nobody asked about the ants, because it was Sharky, and that was answer enough. He set the jar on the windowsill and picked up a toothpick that had been lying there. For who knows how long. He made loud sucking noises as he picked his front teeth. So strange how he was still single.</p><p>"Got any booze?" Jess asked.</p><p>"Maybe." Sharky regarded the toothpick, a supercilious look on his face. "Got any fingers?"</p><p>"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jess snarled. I was reminded of a cat, fur standing on end, eyes riveted on Sharky. Luke watched furtively as he pawed through cupboards.</p><p>"First of all, I just want you to know that you kick a lot of ass and I respect you for that."</p><p>Jess's lip curled. "What the fuck do you want?"</p><p>"Well, right between my shoulder blades...is this giant, painful zit. Now—"</p><p>"Fuckin' <em>no!</em>"</p><p>"Really? I would pop yours. You're being selfish here." Sharky shrugged and continued to pick his teeth. "Guess I don't have any booze."</p><p>"It's for <em>him</em>," she said icily, jerking her head at me.</p><p>Sharky hesitated, then sighed and hauled himself to his feet. "Fine. For the deputy, though. Because I want to see what kind of drunk he is. Twenty bucks says he's affectionate." He disappeared from the room.</p><p>Luke glanced over at me, smirking, only to turn away as I nailed him with my best one-word-and-I-will<em>-skin-</em>you look.</p><p>Sharky returned with a single bottle of whisky, which he set down sharply in front of me. I didn't even have a chance to debate about having some before Jess snatched it up, twisted off the cap and splashed some over my arrow wound. I yelped, more in surprise than in pain but in plenty of pain, kicking Sharky in the shin. He leaped away.</p><p>"Fuckin' mother! I have neosporin and mouthwash for that!" he barked.</p><p>Jess grinned like a crocodile. "This is more fun."</p><p>She did seem to be enjoying poking around my leg, like inspecting a slab of meat for tenderness, a child dissecting a frog in science class. I didn't rise to the bait, swallowing pained sounds and grinding my molars to powder.</p><p>"You've got a very high pain tolerance," she commented, dousing a napkin in whisky and applying it non-too-gently to the exit wound on the back of my thigh. "My ex would be squealing like a pig right now."</p><p>"<em>You</em> have an ex?" Luke blurted. Then he blushed. "I just mean that, uh...you seem like a strong, independent woman, y'know? Like you don't have time for, um, dating, and—"</p><p>"You look like you eat man parts for breakfast," said Sharky.</p><p>"...Thanks." Jess rolled her eyes at me and began wrapping my leg in fresh bandages.</p><p>"Not that that's a bad thing, man, I'm just sayin'," Sharky continued. "I'm sure there are lots of dudes who dig that in a woman. I mean I think it's hot. Not that <em>I</em> would date you—I mean...er...well that's not to say I <em>wouldn't</em> date you but...I feel that, uh...well you're an alpha and I'm an alpha and all we'd ever do is lock horns, y'know? Not saying it couldn't work but it would be very horny. Whoa, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was—"</p><p>I saw the growing anger in her face, half hidden in shadow, and made discreet cutting motions across my neck to Sharky. She saw anyway and turned the fire on me.</p><p>"What about you, Dep? Would you tap this?" she said, too calmly.</p><p>No fair. The three responses available to this question would be met with fury hell hath no. I instead looked pleadingly at my leg, which she was binding so tightly the bandages were bleeding through again. She looked down too and cursed.</p><p>"Fuck my day." She unwrapped the bandages and had me press them to both wounds, then made to get up.</p><p>"Wait, I'll get more." Luke slipped around the booth to the bathroom.</p><p>I regarded Jess as she rested her elbow on the table, knuckles pressed to the bridge of her nose. This wasn't about the recent conversation. Something else was haunting her. And I didn't need three guesses what.</p><p>I leaned forward and put my hand on her shoulder. She tensed, then relaxed, face softening. She met my eyes for only a second but it was enough for both of us.</p><p>Once my leg had stopped bleeding again, she made a more successful attempt at wrapping it up, and then Luke served us a lean meal of creamed corn and turkey jerky.</p><p>"This shit's weird, yo, but I like it," said Sharky, ripping a chunk of the dried meat with his teeth.</p><p>We had barely finished when Jess snagged the bottle of whisky.</p><p>"I'm getting fucking hammered, and if anyone tries to stop me, I'll put an arrow in your fucking eye." She shouldered the door open and stepped out into the night.</p><p>Sharky leaned towards Luke, whispering as though she might otherwise still hear. "Betcha she could do that even when drunk as a skunk and riding a bucking horse through a sandstorm."</p><hr/><p>The couch pulled out into a bed, and that's where I was put for the rest of the night. Sharky took the bedroom at the far side of the trailer, and Luke went out to check on Jess, to make sure she didn't pass out and choke on her own vomit.</p><p>"Sure. Then feel free to sleep anywhere," Sharky had said. "Except that streamliner. Stray cats go in there to bang."</p><p>Normally I was a light sleeper (didn't come to Hope County that way), but the painkillers I'd downed were doozies, and so I didn't realize something was wrong until I tried to shift in my sleep and found myself pinned by my waist.</p><p>"Mmph?" My eyes cracked open, then widened at the dark shape straddling me. Confusion morphed to panic and then calmed to concern.</p><p>"Jess?"</p><p>She lifted her head slightly at the whisper of her name, face striped black and blue from the Venetian blinds. I hadn't recognized her immediately because her hood was down and her quiver was absent.</p><p>I winced as she shifted, her ass dangerously close to my arrow wound.</p><p>"Hey, Dep. S'ry to wake you," she slurred. She sounded despondent. So just drunk, not Blissed. "You looked cold. Thought I'd warm ya."</p><p>I didn't know how to get rid of her without touching her. I made as though to sit up but she didn't get the hint.</p><p>"Dep, you ev'r get the feeling you w're just put on this earth t'get <em>fucked?</em> An' not like...not like the fun kind. I mean th' shitty kind." Her hands curled around fistfuls of my shirt. "'M so tired of it, man. So tired of fighting. Killing shit. I just wanna stop."</p><p>Then she was silent for so long I thought she'd passed out like that, head bowed, straddling me. Then she sniffled, and I knew I was witnessing a phenomenon rarer than an honest politician. Jess Black was <em>crying</em>.</p><p>"I miss my mom. I miss my dad. I wan'em back, Dep."</p><p>I knew her pain, too well, but didn't know what to say. I put my hand on her arm instead. She recoiled as though it were a snake.</p><p>"I wanna fuck you."</p><p>Wait. What?</p><p>She shinnied further down, until her leg was pressing on the arrow wound. My whole body went rigid with pain. She began fumbling at my belt, clumsy in the dark and with zero coordination. But given enough time I knew she'd manage.</p><p>No. Nope, nope, nu-uh. Even if I wasn't beaten to hell I wouldn't have wanted this. She'd regret it come morning and I'd regret it because she was drunk. What's more I'd never been interested in her in this way. She was too...prickly. She was a friend, and I was going to treat her like one.</p><p>I grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from my belt. Jess struggled feebly, seemingly confused as to why she couldn't move her arms, but when she finally clued in she said, "Fuck me, Dep. Please."</p><p>My hands only tightened around her wrists in response, and she sobbed once, arms going limp. She slumped, again pressing the arrow wound and making me want to shove her away. But then she flopped forward, half lying on me, teary face pressed into my neck. She smelled like whisky and tree sap and beeswax. After a while she stopped crying and fell asleep and I let her, because she'd surmise what happened come morning and damn, I missed the warmth of human contact.</p><p>I curled my arm around her, and made her a silent promise.</p><p>After this, after the Archangel was six feet under, I would return to the Whitetails with her, and we would drive the cult from her mountains.</p><hr/><p>"Shame, shame! I know your name!"</p><p>My eyes cracked open to see Sharky's look of absolute delight. The flash of a Polaroid made me jump, waking the woman using me as a body pillow.</p><p>"Wha'th'fuck?" Jess stirred, stiffened, then leaped off as though I was on fire. "Fuckin' hell!"</p><p>Gone was the disheartened tenderness and back was the razor-whip tongue. Her face was as red as mine felt, and Sharky was falling about himself in hilarity.</p><p>"Hoo-yeah! You just got Boshawed!" He raised the camera again and I was proud to say I got a bird flipped just in time for the second blinding flash. "Wait 'til Hurk hears about—!"</p><p>"He's not <em>going</em> to hear about it," Jess snarled, words dripping with venom. She snatched for the Polaroid but Sharky danced away, defending the two developing photos as though they were his flesh and blood. Even with an enemy as dangerous as Jess, this was too big a prize for him to surrender without a fight.</p><p>I would have helped her if I didn't feel like I'd just come out the other side of a meat grinder, and had to resort with giving him the best stink-eye I could muster.</p><p>"Sharky, I swear to God—!"</p><p>"Lighten up, Jess. I'm sure the Big Guy's got bigger problems right now than this sweet, tender, compromising moment between you and the deputy."</p><p>"It wasn't...! I didn't...! I'd <em>never</em>—"</p><p>She hadn't looked at me since jumping away, and while my face had cooled down, hers remained a brand.</p><p>"Your ass is grass, Boshaw!" She made a grab at the photos again but he bolted out the door, nearly knocking Luke flying from the porch. She didn't give him the satisfaction of chasing him, and instead made a show of rummaging through the cupboards for something, <em>anything</em> to soothe the no-doubt throbbing hangover she was experiencing. She mumbled and growled as she did so, keeping her back resolutely to me. Luke gave her the widest birth the little kitchen had to offer and sat at the booth, across the floor from me. He tamed his hair with his fingers before pulling his ball cap on.</p><p>"What'd I miss?"</p><p>I shook my head in warning as Jess snarled, and he stiffened, glancing at her sideways without turning his head. Only when she suddenly whirled around and ran for the bathroom did he ease up.</p><p>Silence, but for the retching behind a door.</p><p>"Soooo...how's the leg?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Sharky returned and Jess stopped throwing chunks, we spent the morning cruising radio stations for signs of the Archangel. Wasn't difficult. Several people were coming across its wake, but no one could tell how old it was. So the reports of smashed trees near the Drubman Marina could be older or fresher than the monster tracks near Nolan's Fly Shop, or the geothermal park, or the King's Hot Springs Hotel. Didn't help that half of them were convinced they were hallucinating, making me wonder how many people weren't reporting anything at all. And, naturally, Sasquatch was a name popping up exponentially.</p><p>“Fucking ignoramuses,” Jess groaned.</p><p>“Guess they're all too scared to try and follow it,” Luke put in.</p><p>“And we're too stupid <em>not</em> to,” finished Sharky.</p><p>At least we knew the Judge was in the Henbane, and seemed to be making its way west. We piled back into Sharky's truck and hit the road, heading southeast. We encountered a few Cougars but no Peggies.</p><p>“<span>Fuckin'</span> freaky, man,” Sharky mumbled. “Faith is still alive, right?”</p><p>“Not picking up anything that's saying otherwise.” Luke had a few radios in hand, including mine, listening in on several lines at once. We could hear Peggy communications, but not as much as usual.</p><p>Nothing from John Seed either. I was beginning to think he'd already contacted his “sister” in regards to the bounty, like he did with Jacob, and that she'd pulled back her forces just to look mysterious. But I killed a Hunter. By rights John should have declared our temporary alliance terminated and shot my friends. And yet, there had been no word of that either. I would have been contacted if Nick Rye or Mary May Fairgrave or anyone else had been killed. Sharky, who'd been threatened right in front of me, was still alive of course, but that could be because I'd shaken John's men off my tail while mountain climbing.</p><p>Christ. I felt like there was a hammer hovering over my head. Afraid to look up, in case it fell.</p><p>“Maybe we should check in at the jail,” said Luke.</p><p>Sharky shook his head. “No way, man. I've spent more than enough time there, thank you!”</p><p>The hunter rolled his eyes. “It's a stronghold against the cult right now—shush!” He threw up his hand. We all listened as my radio spoke.</p><p>“<em>Backup! Requesting backup at Rattlesnake Bridge. We got a monster Angel on our hands! I repeat, request...back</em>...” The signal <span>fritzed</span> out as we drove beside a rock bluff. By the time we passed it, the message was over. Or cut off.</p><p>“Saint's alive. Sounds like our gig,” said Luke.</p><p>“Reckon that was a Cougar or a Peggy?”</p><p>“Doesn't matter, Sharky. Get us there.” Jess fingered her bow and pulled up her hood.</p><p>As Sharky floored it, I unfolded my map. Rattlesnake Bridge was not far from a little hamlet called Prosperity.</p><p>“Nothing much there,” said Luke, glancing over, “but a druggie and his mannequins. Weird-ass dude, but smart as fuck. He could have graduated early and gotten a science degree before he was sixteen if he didn't have so many daddy issues.”</p><p>“Was that his distress call?” said Jess.</p><p>“No, don't reckon so...Hope not,” he added quietly.</p><hr/><p>We passed the Henbane River Station by early afternoon, crossing Rattlesnake Bridge to the south side of the river.</p><p>“Do you see it?” Jess' head was on a swivel, and while she kept a lookout I pulled my MPB .05 from my bag, along with a special magazine I treasured more than gold. It contained military-grade shot that could pierce Kevlar like pudding, and I can proudly say I've shot down a few Chosen aircraft with them. But they were expensive and rarer than a diamond in pig shit, and therefore I only used them when I absolutely had to.</p><p>This seemed like one of those absolute moments to me.</p><p>Disengaging the magazine of regular ammunition, I locked in the armour-piercing one and rolled down my window. Couldn't say I was a sharpshooter whilst in a moving vehicle, but my quarry was big and single-minded. It would be charging towards us, and become a bigger target with every stride.</p><p>I let Luke, who was manning the mounted gun, watch our backs, and focused on the hills on either side of us. I looked for bodies, tracks, smoke, anything to indicate a struggle.</p><p>Jess turned around, arm hooking behind the headrest. “Have you ever managed to sneak up on this thing?”</p><p>I shook my head, sullen.</p><p>“Huh. Well if we can't sneak up on it or turn it into a pincushion, the fuck we supposed to do?”</p><p>I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't stopped trying to think up a plan to eliminate the Archangel without blowing away half the county since day one. If a highly trained, extensive team of Hunters couldn't do it, what hope did three bows and a shotgun have?</p><p>Sonuvabitch. I looked at my bag. I had lost my double-barrel in the mountains after the Judge Wolves took me down and had yet to replace it. It had seemed to be the only thing to have any impact on the monster. And even if arrows could pierce its hide, I couldn't aim my bow well on account of my bad leg, and don't even get me started on the sniper. Probably couldn't stand steady enough to shoot a target at fifty yards. I was a useless sack of horse <span>jizz</span> right now even with the ambient Bliss of the Henbane dulling the pain. If I wanted to help, I was going to have to drug up even more, which was as appealing as chewing off my own tongue.</p><p>“Check it.” Jess pointed to a pair of trees that had been snapped in two. No bear did that.</p><p>We saw more destruction further along the road. Flattened shrubs, craters, a flipped car.</p><p>“Heading for Prosperity,” said Sharky.</p><hr/><p>Eyeless gazes. Blanched flesh. A faceless army.</p><p>“Fuck, this place gives me the creeps<span>.”</span> Sharky shuddered as he pulled off the main, and only, road in Prosperity. Its inhabitants: a small legion of naked, posed mannequins. Standing by the road, waving, or lounging on the bench, or peering out through broken windows.</p><p>I scanned our surroundings before getting out, the others following suit. The slamming of truck doors sounded too loud and I tensed, checking every shadow. A makeshift crutch under my left arm, I followed the others to the middle of the muddy road, my 1911 at the ready. Then we split up, scouting the area.</p><p>The smattering of dilapidated buildings might have been cozy once, before they weathered or burned down. Between them were the carcasses of Fords and <span>Chevys</span>, rims half buried, grass grown tall through busted windows. Slowly being reclaimed by nature. I could hear the struts of the water tower groaning under its weight.</p><p>It took only a few minutes to determine we were alone in the little hamlet besides a few goats, and only Jess had anything to report.</p><p>“Looks like this druggy lives in that building. Lab shit is set up in there. Wonder what he's cooking,” she said blandly, sounding like she knew exactly what he was cooking.</p><p>“He was a good kid, man,” said Luke, staring at a pair of mannequins set up to look like they were making out on a bench. “Just made some...<em>different</em> choices—Hey. Why are mannequins so damn creepy?”</p><p>“I read about that,” said Sharky. “See, the human brain is hardwired to recognize faces. Pareidolia is the tendency to perceive <span>somethin</span>' – say, a face – in inanimate objects. We're quick to recognize faces in things like tree bark or clouds or power outlets. But on <span>somethin</span>' like a mannequin, or a doll, or a mask, our brains get confused because they see <span>somethin'</span> that has a face and therefore should be alive but it ain't. Mannequins are on the road to <span>lookin</span>' completely human, which we are drawn to, but they ain't human enough, and therefore they repulse us. <span>Masahiro Mori</span> was a robotics professor whose works on the 'uncanny valley—'”</p><p>“Fucking Jesus, Sharky, shut up,” Jess snapped. “If that Archangel ain't here we need to keep moving.”</p><p>Screams. Male. Echoing from the hills.</p><p>“Shit! Someone's in trouble!” Sharky's gun was in his hands in a heartbeat.</p><p>“It's coming from that way.” Luke knocked an arrow to his compound bow, as did Jess. “Wait here, Chief. We got this—”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>They all froze, staring at me. Not sure if it was because of what I said or that I said it at all, but it didn't matter.</p><p>“There's no one there.”</p><p>“You...can hear those screams, right?” said Sharky hesitantly. “We all can? Or am I <span>trippin</span>' balls?”</p><p>“No, I hear 'em too.” Luke frowned at me. “If that's not someone in distress, what is it?”</p><p>I'd been thinking it over on the drive down here. After nearly being ripped apart by Jacob's Wolves, it had slipped my mind – the screams that woke me that day were the same screams I'd heard later in the campsite, and now I was hearing them again, as though it were a recording.</p><p>But it wasn't. We were dealing with a mocking bird. An echo. A...what the hell was it called?</p><p>“<span>Wendigo,</span>” I mumbled.</p><p>Luke and Jess shared a look, but Sharky perked.</p><p>“I heard 'bout them! They were people who went cannibal and turned into monsters. They can use human voices to lure people into the woods. But...” His face fell, almost piteous. “They don't exist, man. We're hunting the Archangel, remember?”</p><p>I rolled my eyes. “I'm saying it knows we're here. It screams because it knows prey – people – will be attracted to it. I would know. Fallen for it twice.”</p><p>Sharky's face creased, then cleared. “That chick we heard, just before we saw the Judge for the first time.”</p><p>I nodded.</p><p>“I heard screaming too,” said Jess thoughtfully, “that day up north. Thought that was you.” She tipped her chin at me.</p><p>“So this Archangel can sound like a dude <em>and</em> a <span>dudette</span>?” said Luke.</p><p>“Looks like.” Sharky rested his shotgun behind his neck and across his shoulders, an arm draped lazily over either end. “This is one badass <span>mo'fo</span>'. It has armoured skin, can flip cars, take down choppers—”</p><p>“And it has a gender identity disorder,” said Luke.</p><p>“That's not a disorder, that's—”</p><p>“<em>Can it</em>.” Jess turned to me. “So if it knows we're onto it, what do we do?”</p><p>I gazed evenly at her. “Run.”</p><hr/><p>We had barely gotten the doors closed when Sharky floored it. There was a yelp from the back and I turned to see Luke scrambling to gain a good hold on the mounted gun. From between his legs I watched Prosperity vanish around the bend.</p><p>“Eyes peeled.” Jess was checking the mag of her pistol while I handled my sniper, sitting diagonally from her so she could watch our right flank while I guarded our left.</p><p>We were several minutes on the road when I felt my grip on the gun slacken. Just a little.</p><p>“Maybe it didn't see us after all?” said Jess, but she didn't relax. Sharky took his foot off the gas.</p><p>“Waltzed right into its path before,” he grunted, hunched over the steering wheel. “Don't wanna do that again.”</p><p>There were still a couple miles or so until we hit the highway. Even with Luke at the gun to cover our asses I felt like I was backing up towards a cliff edge. Every nerve was on fire, and so I measured my breathing, willing calm. If ever there was a time to prevent buck fever, it was now.</p><p>“The fuck were we thinking?” Jess blurted. “We know we can't shoot it, not with this shit.” She raised her bow. “I watched those Hunter dildos shoot dozens of arrows at that thing and they all just bounced off. I think you have to get its eyes or inside its mouth, and it's just too damn fast. As much as I hate to say it, we're gonna need bigger guns.”</p><p>“It's like the Nemean Lion,” said Sharky, “from the Hercules story. It was impervious to attacks. I think he ended up <span>stranglin</span>' it to death.”</p><p>“Why do you know so much useless shit?” Jess drawled.</p><p>Or...not so useless.</p><p>The next mile passed in silence. Then...</p><p>“There's the bridge,” said Sharky. “What do you want us to do, popo? I mean we didn't even see the damn thing. Could be miles away by now—”</p><p>“<em>Sharky!</em>”</p><p>I was thrown forward into the back of the driver seat as the brakes were hoofed, and I had only just managed to shove myself back in time to see a dismembered torso crash into the windshield. Jess shrieked, glass cracked and Sharky swore, half blinded by the blood spattering across the glass.</p><p>“Get it off! <em>Get it off!</em>” He floored it, then slammed on the brakes again, and the torso slid off the hood. Sharky turned on the wipers.</p><p>
  <em>Squee-squee. Squee-squee. Squee-squee.</em>
</p><p>We were all frozen, waiting for annihilation, or more body parts. I turned to look at the road behind us. But Luke had already spotted it.</p><p>“Jesus, Mary<em> and Joseph!</em>” He pulled the mounted gun around and let her fly, screaming, making the whole truck vibrate. “<em>Drive already!</em>”</p><p>Sharky didn't waste time turning around. He floored the accelerator. There was a bump as we drove over the torso, and then we were kicking up mud. I twisted my body in order to get out the window far enough to take aim behind us, but my ammo was limited and I couldn't aim properly with the scope at a target so close. Had to get it off.</p><p>But Luke wasn't limited, and he wasn't shy.</p><p>“Eat this!” he roared, and angry return bellows confirmed hits.</p><p>It was catching up.</p><p>“Come on, Sharky, faster!” Jess cried.</p><p>“I'm <span>givin</span>' it all she's got, captain!” he replied in a passable Scottish accent.</p><p>The Judge was fast, sometimes running like a human, sometimes using its arms like an ape. Jess fired her pistol to no effect. I finally wrestled the scope off my gun and took aim. The sniper bucked, hushed by a suppressor, sending a metal-piercing bullet straight for the Archangel's heart—</p><p>I might as well have thrown a stone at it. It jerked to the left, snarling, and kept coming. I raised my view, aiming for its head, but then we were curving right and I lost sight of it.</p><p>What was worse, Luke stopped firing.</p><p>“Gun's overheating! <em>Step on it!</em>”</p><p>We were nearing the bridge. When we crossed it, we would be well on our way to the main road. We would be bringing the danger to innocent people.</p><p>Jess had realized the same thing and was staring at me. For the first time ever, I saw fear in her eyes.</p><p>“Do something, Dep.”</p><p>I had one more ace up my sleeve. Like the armour-piercing ammo, I saved these babies for truly desperate situations, usually involving pesky aircraft. I drew a special case out of my backpack and cracked it open, pulling out a single arrow before closing it again. Then I picked up my bow and forced my bad leg to cooperate as I turned and knelt on the seat, nocking the arrow tipped with a small but effective explosive.</p><p>“Luke, move your legs.”</p><p>The hunter turned the gun until it pointed to the right, so his legs were out of the way. Holding the bow sideways, I aimed it at the Archangel.</p><p>“Bridge!”</p><p>A second after Sharky's warning the truck lurched, and I lost my balance. I threw my hand out, focusing on keeping the arrowhead from touching <em>anything</em>. The ride smoothed, and now that we weren't slogging through mud, we moved a little faster. But that would end as soon as we were off the bridge.</p><p>“Shoot already!” Jess snapped.</p><p>I got back in position, vision blurring as my leg <em>shrieked</em> with pain. And then there was the decision to be made as to where I should hit.</p><p>Sharky made the call for me.</p><p>“Go for its yam bags!”</p><p>I tilted my focus down from the Judge's head and chest and took aim at its enormous, well...and I let 'er fly.</p><p>Apparently armoured skin also meant armoured gonads, for the arrow detonated on impact. The Archangel made a sound I've never heard before, something between tearing metal and a howler monkey. It stumbled, crashed and rolled, holding its crotch.</p><p>“Fuck yeah, popo! Now it's my turn!” Sharky braked and cranked the wheel, and I was thrown sideways, yelping with pain as the truck spun a complete 180. “Whoops, sorry, man.” He didn't sound sorry, though, and I scrambled upright just in time to see what he was doing.</p><p>“Brace for impact!”</p><p>It was like hitting a brick wall. The truck came to a dead halt, front end crushed and windshield smashed, but it was enough to send the Archangel rolling over the guardrail, down to the river below.</p><p>“Fuck, Sharky,” Jess moaned, putting a hand to her head and shoving away the airbag.</p><p>“What? It worked.” The pyromaniac spat bloody <span>phlegm</span> into a cup holder.</p><p>The front seats had stopped me from tumbling far, but I wanted to curl up and cry like a little bitch because my goddamn <em>leg</em>—</p><p>“Hey. Where's <span>Luke-ass</span>?”</p><p>With Sharky's words I looked out the back. Luke wasn't standing in the turret. My insides clenched, and then relaxed as he picked himself up from the road just outside my door.</p><p>“Well that was fun,” he groaned, clutching at the sill. He smiled <span>dopishly</span> at me, looking stunned but unhurt. “Howdy, Chief. Come here <span>of'en</span>?”</p><p>Okay, maybe mildly concussed.</p><p>“The fuck is it?” Jess got out, and as she did so I became aware of distressed wails echoing up from the ravine. I crawled out of the truck, and Luke helped me to the railing.</p><p>We stared down at the creature, flailing like a drowning bird in three feet of water. It was...<em>panicking</em>.</p><p>“Is it throwing a tantrum?” said Sharky.</p><p>Luke shook his head. “I don't think it can swim.”</p><p>“And it's mostly animal now. It can't rationalize its predicament,” finished Jess.</p><p>Before we could figure out how to finish it off, the Archangel managed to thrash itself to shore. With a roar it clawed up the far bank and disappeared into the trees without a backwards glance.</p><p>Well. Now we knew how to defeat the Nemean Lion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>I'm here, honey. What needs </em><em>shootin</em><em>'?</em>"</p><p>Didn't really need to be told she was here. I could hear <em>Tulip</em> thudding over a mile away.</p><p>Sharky seized my radio. "Hey, Aunty Addie!" He waved up at the hovering chopper.</p><p>Adelaide Drubman's response was strained in its sweetness. "<em>Hullo</em><em>, </em><em>Sharky, darlin</em><em>'</em>."</p><p>I asked her to land and she complied, setting the bird down in a clearing. A nearby crop of Bliss flowers bowed and waved and filled the air with its tantalizing scent. I had been careful to stand upwind of it and now held my breath until <em>Tulip</em> ceased her tempest-making. I was relieved for the silence that followed. I was fond of Adelaide, but if ever I had her with me, it was never in her chopper. Hard to sneak up on Peggies with a gargantuan fly buzzing over your head all the time.</p><p>She hopped out, gave everyone (except Jess who backed off) a wet kiss on the cheek. Then we all took turns updating the pilot.</p><p>"Well blow me sideways. I'd heard rumours all over the radio of some manbeast tearing up the county but I just assumed those damn 'Quatch fanatics were multiplyin'." Adelaide rested her rifle against her shoulder. "Either that or that limp-dick homunculus I used to call Husband got into the happy flakes again. So. I take it you need me to follow this Archangel from the air?"</p><p>"Very, very high," warned Sharky. "We saw that thing throw a quad to take down a chopper."</p><p>"And you won't be able to lose it," said Jess. "It's as subtle as Godzilla."</p><p>"Hey, it sneaked up on the dep and me," said Sharky. "It can be quiet if it wants to."</p><p>"So I find it, then what? Shoot it?" asked the pilot.</p><p>"You could try but it won't do much good. Skin's too tough," Luke reminded her. "Although we haven't seen anyone shoot at it with aircraft artillery, you'd probably just piss it off."</p><p>"Shorty has an idea," said Jess, looking shrewdly at me. "Just hasn't shared with the class yet."</p><p>Partially true. I'd had a light bulb on how to kill the damn thing, just not how to go about it. Non-suicide style.</p><p>"It's afraid of water," I said.</p><p>"But it crossed the river before, remember?" said Sharky. "When just you an' I was huntin' it. Before you <em>ditched me</em>."</p><p>"It jumped across." I remembered those tracks on the river shore in the Holland Valley, several days ago now, before we'd even seen the Archangel. Didn't occur to me at the time that it couldn't swim...but why cross at all? There hadn't been any Bliss on the far side of the river I could detect, other than the Judge's fumes. Perhaps it had been hunting, but something in my gut was telling me there was more to it. Just couldn't put my finger on it.</p><p>"Chief, you're doing that thing again when you stare at the ground and get quiet for a really long period of time," said Luke.</p><p>Jess rolled her eyes. "It's obvious. We gotta get that motherfucker into deep water. He's trying to think of a way how."</p><p>Now we all stared at the ground and got quiet for a really long period of time...least I did. Sharky kept shuffling and Jess was watching the trees. It was quiet, though, and I enjoyed it while it lasted.</p><p>Sharky perked. "Hey, what if we lure it into a big-ass cage, then pick it up with, like, five choppers and drop it in the lake?"</p><p>"Where do we get a cage that big?" said Luke.</p><p>Jess crossed her arms. "Or enough choppers with the juice to handle it?"</p><p>"Okay. What about we grab a truck from the fire hall and chase it into the lake with a hose?" said Sharky.</p><p>"Sure, chase a monster through the wilderness in a goddamn <em>fire engine</em>," Luke drawled. "It'll <em>fly</em> through these hills."</p><p>"Fine! Then we'll lure it onto a bridge, then <em>ka-blam! </em>We blow up the bridge."</p><p>"Sharky, these aren't better, honey," Addie admonished. "Too early in the season. Rivers aren't deep enough yet. And the bigger bridges need more explosives than what we got."</p><p>"I just wanna blow shit up, yo," said Sharky. "And I don't hear any of <em>you</em> coming up with anythin'!"</p><p>"I bet the deputy knows something," Luke put in, looking at me. "He always has something. I mean that arrow! How could you have kept that from me?"</p><p>Didn't bother telling him how unpleasant it was to be wandering around with small explosives in my bag. One stray bullet in just the right place...</p><p>They were all staring at me and I had to fight the urge to scowl. At least Sharky was <em>trying</em> to come up with something. Because the only idea I had was as ludicrous and suicidal as it gets, requiring perfect timing, a few harder-to-come-by resources, a rippin' ATV, and a generous serving of luck. Very generous.</p><p>Luke pointed at my face.</p><p>"There. He has an awesome, kick-ass idea but he doesn't want to tell us because it involves putting everyone in deep shit."</p><p>"Hey, man, I like deep shit," said Sharky. He grimaced. "That is, I like being <em>in</em> deep shit. Wait, <em>wait</em>, wait, that's not what I meant—"</p><p>"Just tell us," Jess snapped, arms on her hips. "The sooner we gank this thing, the better."</p><p>A muscle jumped in my jaw, but I unfolded my map it and spread it on the ground. Everyone knelt around me as I pulled out a marker and circled the Archangel's last known location – Rattlesnake Bridge, which connected the road from the highway to Prosperity. The river was wide wherever it wound, which would limit the Judge's crossings to the bridges. Bridges were almost always manned by one side of this conflict or the other, so we would hear via radio if the Archangel made an appearance.</p><p>"We always know where it's been. We need to know where it's going."</p><p>"Roger." Adelaide stood and dusted off her knees. "Keep me posted on your plan." She jogged off to <em>Tulip</em>, and after the nimble chopper was up and away, I looked to Luke.</p><p>"We need something small, and fast."</p><p>His cougar scars pulled as he grinned. "Gotcha, Chief."</p><p>To Sharky. "We need a sound system. And we need explosives, more noise than destruction. And smoky, if you can."</p><p>He saluted me.</p><p>And to Jess. "We need the smoothest path from here..." I pointed to the Archangel's last known location. "To here." I pointed to Dead Man's Lake, miles to the west, on the border to the Holland Valley. More specifically to the cliffs overlooking the water.</p><p>"I think I know where you're going with this," she said.</p><p>I checked to see if she had her radio. She did. "Have Adelaide keep you posted. Any chance it's coming your way, get out of there."</p><p>"Sir, yes, sir." She stood and turned away, jogging out of the clearing. Within seconds she vanished into the shadows.</p><p>"Imma stop by my place. Got loads of toys there," said Sharky.</p><p>I nodded. "Collect what you can, then wait. We'll meet you there once we've grabbed Luke's ride."</p><hr/><p>"Been working on this baby for ages. Got 'er when I was a teen. I call 'er <em>Jackrabbit</em>. <em>Jackie</em> for short."</p><p>The dirt bike Luke pulled out of his garage looked tired, but loved. A Yamaha WR250R, sleek with customization, shamelessly red with brass accents.</p><p>"Made a few modifications over the years," he said, kicking the stand out and moving back to admire her as a whole. "Standard model can get up to 60 miles per hour in about eight seconds on solid roads. This baby can make it in seven."</p><p>He was grinning at me, but I could only stare back. When I'd asked for something fast, I hadn't expected his pet. He knew me well enough to know what I was thinking.</p><p>"Hey, man, I ain't never gonna ride after this. Got to that point in my life where I just...won't. And kids don't want ol' bikes like this. They want the newest and greatest. Morons don't understand the classics." He smacked the cracked seat and dust plumed. "The least I can do is send her off in style. As a hero."</p><p>I'd told him my plan. I hadn't told him who exactly would be riding.</p><p>"You won't have to. I will."</p><p>He stared. "Wait, hold up. One, <em>you</em> can ride? And two, you're <em>not</em> riding. I am. I'm the disposable one. It's <em>my</em> job."</p><p>Truth be told, he probably would have better luck than me. I'd put many hours on the endless paths of the Oregon wilds, but that was almost two decades ago, and I had ten years on Luke. But that was why I'd asked Jess for the smoothest sailing possible through those hills.</p><p>"And your <em>leg</em>." Luke's voice raised with desperation, because he knew I wasn't going to change my mind. "You can't ride like that!"</p><p>I mounted the bike easily, getting a feel for it. He ogled.</p><p>"You sneaky bastard. You drugged yourself!"</p><p>Fuck me sideways, I did. Blissed myself up not two minutes ago, when he was rummaging through his garage. Injected the shit directly into the arrow wound. The ambient Bliss had dulled the pain but now I felt almost nothing. Including common sense.</p><p>This felt good. Familiar. Never had a Yamaha but I had no doubt my younger self would have liked it.</p><p>"Chief... Deputy... <em>Isaac</em>."</p><p>I looked at him. "Do you trust me?"</p><p>He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and nodded. "Fucker."</p><hr/><p>After an oil change, tire fill and a fuel-up, I took her for a spin to get a feel for her. Couldn't do anything fancy, but I could ride.</p><p>We secured <em>Jackie</em> in the back of a half-ton and took her to the Moonflower Trailer Park. My leg had started to throb before we'd set out. If I Blissed up just before showtime, I'd have a fifteen minute window free of pain. Should be enough. Should.</p><p>I hate that word.</p><p>With a truck of Sharky's goodies in tow, we crossed to the southern side of the Henbane River, turned west, and drove as far up the mountain we could. We hoofed it the rest of the way to the top, finding the perfect spot on the cliff overlooking Dead Man's Lake to set up our trap. All the while we listened to the tabs between Adelaide and Jess. The Archangel was still in the area. Jess reported she was almost done marking a path between Prosperity and the cliff, using coloured logger ribbon. At each point she left a road flare, which would burn for almost an hour once lit. Now, while Addie kept an eye from the sky, Sharky, Luke and I began to set up the trap.</p><p>"We're not gonna get this all done today," Luke warned, checking the sun. We had an hour of daylight yet, but I wasn't worried. We would do what we could, which wouldn't be as much as I would like but should suffice, then retire. I'd seen where the Archangel nested before, and believed it slept once it got dark. It wasn't going anywhere tonight.</p><p>It was before sunset that Adelaide warned us her fuel was getting low and she needed to use the last of it to get home. Jess had finished marking a path and so now took it upon herself to observe the Archangel from a safe distance. She reported that it seemed to be making itself comfortable in a hollow southwest of Prosperity. The earth was so torn up around it, it looked like a war zone. Once it settled in a nest of shrubs and grass, Jess returned to the hamlet, where we picked her up en route back to the trailer park.</p><p>And Luke bellyached the whole way how he wasn't going to be the bait this time.</p><p>I let him, happy just to doze in the passenger seat, counting the snowflakes as I hovered between reality and the Bliss. Saw Faith twirling in a field of flowers. I blinked, and she was gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had become customary for members of the Resistance to enjoy a drink or three in front of a fire before a mission. It was one thing to be caught in a Peggy firefight or ambushed or attacked by wild turkeys, quite another to dive willingly face first into the deepest pile of dung we could find with an objective. And since such tomfoolery was often deemed suicide, we <span>numbnuts</span> took it as a last chance to relax and chill with the gang. And this time we did it <span>Sharky-style.</span> A BBQ<span>/oil</span> barrel hybrid (“It only explodes sometimes,” said Sharky), a boar roast (“Seasoned with spray shot. Caught it rummaging through my trash.”), a keg of <span>Fairgrave's</span> finest (“I didn't steal it, I swear.”) and a impressively large supply of ketchup chips (“Don't tell <span>Hurk's</span> daddy.”).</p><p>Bliss and booze was never a good combo, but fortunately for me I couldn't find the keg after the third drink, because Luke had tried to lean on it and it had rolled off the stand, vanishing in the dark – wasn't there a cliff over there? He seemed quite disappointed with that. Now he was telling everyone how I liked to sing oldies after the spirits poured too freely. CCR. Eagles. Kansas.</p><p>Be advised, I can't sing.</p><p>So I was saved the embarrassment, and the others eventually stopped trying to convince me it was karaoke night regardless of how little I had to drink, and so Luke professed his love for Jess and Sharky told me in<em> great detail </em>about the time he got his thingy caught in a zipper.</p><p>My leg was bugging me, so I downed a vial of Bliss for some goddamn reason and wow there are a lot of stars. I love the stars. Who's giggling? Hey, stop stopping me. Lemme go. I wanna see more stars...I wanna see them dance...</p><p>They're falling. Why are they falling?</p><p>And why is everything so hot?</p><hr/><p>“Are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p>Weightlessness. Green-tinged mists. Scraggly trees with no leaves, grass as soft as a rabbit's tummy.</p><p>I drifted through the Bliss, a wisp on a leash held in Faith's hand.</p><p>“It only takes what it needs. It only hurts people when people hurt it.” Faith twirled us around. “The Archangel. It is what we should all strive to be. Another animal on this planet. With intelligence comes cruelty. With ambition comes greed. The Archangel is not cruel. It is not greedy. It takes only what it needs. And yet you set out to destroy it. Because that is what you do. It is who you are.”</p><p>I didn't say anything. She was right. I do kill problems. It was the easiest way to solve them.</p><p>Faith spun us faster, gripped me tighter. “Aren't you tired? Don't you wish you could just...stop?”</p><p>Yes. Yes, I would love to stop. But...</p><p>But...what?</p><p>She stopped us spinning, smiling. “Why fight the river when you can swim with it? Put down your weapons. Set aside your hatred. Join us. Join us, Deputy.”</p><p>Join them.</p><p>“Join us. Deputy.”</p><p>Join.</p><p>“Join us in the Bliss.”</p><p>“Deputy.”</p><p>I want to. I will join—</p><p>“<em>Deputy!</em>”</p><p>Water so cold my gonads shrank to the size of ball bearings. I kicked and punched but hit only air, and then firm hands pinned me down as I spat and snorted out water. I saw friends. I saw enemies. I saw a deer with wings and a forest on fire and holy shit there was Joseph Seed—</p><p>“Chill, Dep, chill! You're fine!”</p><p>“Throw another bucket on 'im!”</p><p>“No, wait—!”</p><p>A second freezing cascade finally broke me free of the Bliss/reality <span>clusterfuck</span><span>, and despite now being flipping </span><span><em>cold</em></span><span> I slumped, blinking water away. Jess and Sharky stopped pressing me down and Luke dropped a bucket.</span></p><p>“You good, bro?” Luke helped me stand.</p><p>“Damn, that was the craziest thing I've ever seen!” Sharky crowed. “And I saw a UFO once!”</p><p>Jess was looking me up and down. “...You don't remember a thing, do you?”</p><p>I frowned at her, then looked down at myself. It was dark, but I was able to see, in the glow of a trailer porch light, the scorch marks and holes all over my pants and hoodie.</p><p>“<span>Popo, you walked straight through the fire!” Sharky was nearly peeing himself with excitement. His eyes were like golf balls in the gloom. “Like </span><span><em>straight</em></span><span> through! Holy tits, that was some </span><span><em>serious</em></span><span> Wicker Man shit right there.”</span></p><p>Jess was right. I didn't remember doing that. I remembered downing Bliss, just to appease my leg for a few minutes, and then feeling hot, but that was it.</p><p>“How long was I—?”</p><p>“Out? Like, thirty seconds,” said Luke. “And you were <em>gone,</em> Chief. Took all three of us to stop you from wandering off.”</p><p>Felt a hell of a lot longer than that. I pawed at my clothes, charred bits flaking off. The wind bit through the holes.</p><p>“You hurt?” said Jess. I shook my head. Some patches my legs felt hot, but without the sharp stinging that indicated a second degree burn.</p><p>“...You got more clothes?”</p><p>I nodded, and I changed into them before regrouping near the fire. Sharky was serving the roast boar, which had the same texture and taste as a boot but I was starving so I shovelled down three helpings.</p><p>“I'm gonna be shitting a brick tomorrow,” said Luke, groaning and rubbing his gut.</p><p>Sharky tossed a rib aside. “I'm not gonna lie. I haven't pooped in six days.”</p><p>I winced in sympathy, saw Jess with the same expression. She met my gaze and I swear she almost smiled before a yawn split her face.</p><p>“I'm done with this.” Jess tossed the gnawed remains on her plate into the flames. “'Night, <span>fuckwads</span>.”</p><p>“Sleep tight. Oh, you want the deputy to keep you company—?” Sharky rolled back off his seat to avoid Jess's plate, but she was appeased when I nailed him with a pop can.</p><p>“Mercy!” Sharky waved a sock in the air and I accepted the surrender.</p><p>When Jess vanished into one of the trailers, there was silence between us three who remained for several minutes.</p><p>“So. What did you see?”</p><p>I glanced at Luke. He was staring at me expectantly, and I didn't need clarification.</p><p>I cleared my throat. “Faith.”</p><p>“...<span>Aaaaand? What'd </span>she say?”</p><p>“Basically, don't kill it.”</p><p>Sharky and Luke shared a look. Natives to this region, they knew more than me how this shit worked.</p><p>“You know she...didn't actually say that, yeah?” said the hunter. “It's all in your head.”</p><p>I nodded. First time I'd been knee deep in Bliss, last fall, I was pretty sure Faith had been talking to me. Either to my face or through my radio. But this time, surrounded by my friends, that would have been impossible. Which meant I had my own misgivings about what was about to go down in the morning, and Faith, intrusive as she was, had little to do with it.</p><p>The Archangel had been a person once. It had intelligence but was hindered by <span>animalistic</span> fears. In the days I'd spent tracking it in the Whitetails, I hadn't seen any random acts of violence. It hunted when it was hungry, ate everything, leaving only bones and some blood. It didn't seek out people on purpose, although it seemed drawn to them, to their activities. Not surprising, seeing as it must remember a little bit of its true nature. But when Sharky and I saw it for the first time, it didn't hulk out on us; Sharky had shot it. It probably would have attacked us anyway, but then, so would a mama bear, or a moose, or a crackhead. Those things were harmless if you gave them their space.</p><p>“I know that look. Chief, I know what you're thinking and no. We gotta do this,” said Luke.</p><p>“This ain't no time for chickening out!” Sharky agreed. “'Sides. If Johnny Apple Seed doesn't get what he wants, he'll bone ya for sure...Which I'm pretty sure he <em>also</em> wants.”</p><p>I hunched at the thought—not the one Sharky just put in my head but the real problem that would arise if I refused to do what John ordered. If I didn't kill the Archangel, he would kill my friends, and I would rather carve off my own balls with a hacksaw than let that happen.</p><p>
  <em>It's a job. Just do the job, and get past this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What's one more death on my hands anyway?</em>
</p><p>I squashed that squirming shred of humanity, constantly reminding me I had a bottomless vat of guilt to attend to, and instead brought back the soldier I was before coming to Montana. I was a cop, now. And my job was to serve and protect. Although those boundaries were now hazy and indistinct, I knew what I had to do, for the good of all.</p><p>Sharky and Luke were squabbling again, the arsonist calling the hunter a pussy for using a bow and in retaliation being called a knuckle-dragging <span>thudfuck</span> for using a shotgun. Seeing as I favoured both weapons, I could choose to be offended but decided life was too short, and watching them scrap was more entertaining.</p><p>It was, however, getting harder and harder to tell if they actually respected each other or not.</p><p>“You've never seen a real <span>vag</span> in your life, have you?”</p><p>“I heard you're so dumb you got fired from a blow job!”</p><p>“Your head's so far up your own ass—”</p><p>“Go suck yo mama's tit—”</p><p>“Fart-breath!”</p><p>“<span>Jizz-rat!</span>”</p><p>“Shut<em> up!</em>”</p><p>A boot came flying out of nowhere and clocked Luke in the noggin, before spinning onto Sharky's lap and knocking his plate to the ground. A door slammed somewhere in the dark. Just as stunned as they were, I stared between the two of them. They knew better than to piss off Jess further and so fell silent, looking anywhere but each other.</p><p>Silence, but for crickets and the cackle of fire. I jumped at the cry of a crow, looking up at the night sky for the culprit. I saw nothing. Luke was staring at me, and I knew. There was no crow.</p><p>“...Night.” I stood, ignoring their sounds of protest, halfhearted challenges and taunts as I made for Sharky's trailer. I crashed on the couch and fell asleep before I could take my boots off.</p><hr/><p>“Psst. <em>Psst</em>. Hey, Chief. Rise and shine.”</p><p>Something was jabbing my cheek, my other <span>smooshed</span> into a cushion. I flopped a hand around to fend it off.</p><p>“<span>Mmph-mm</span>.”</p><p>It started jabbing my shoulder.</p><p>“Up before dawn. That was <em>your</em> order.”</p><p>I was warm, and cozy, and whatever needed to be done could be done in five more minutes. I turned my head away, face now buried under a pillow, body curling away from the intrusion. But now the jabber was jabbing the back of my neck, and I was one of <em>those</em> kinds of people. I hunched my shoulders, squirming and thrashing, reaching back over my shoulder to try and grab the offender. Luke snickered, teasing me with a radio antenna.</p><p>“Up and at 'em, lazy daisy!”</p><p>I threw a pillow at him but missed as he dodged out the trailer door. It was still dark outside. I sat up, rubbed my face and glared at an alarm clock. It was flashing 12:00 AM. But by the ambient light and the approximate temperature I estimated the time to be half-past <em>too fucking early.</em></p><p>I pulled a blanket over my head, relishing the warmth, then drew it off again. My hair floated with static. A strict sleeping regimen had been happily abandoned after my military service, and even after all my time here in this hellhole of a county, I took sleep when I could get it. Which wasn't now.</p><p>With a sigh I stood and limped to the kitchen sink. Turned on the faucet and cupped cold water in my hands. I braced but still cringed as the iciness splashed the doziness away. Sonuvabitch. Getting a nipple pierced was more pleasant than that.</p><p>I dried my face on what I hoped was a clean towel, then sat at the booth and pawed through my bag. I had replenished my inventory yesterday, restocking ammo and borrowing a pump action shotgun from Sharky to replace my lost double-barrel. I also ensured I had more than a few doses of flower power to keep me going for the day. Fucking Bliss.</p><p>Hated that I had to rely on it to do this. I was becoming a junkie, willingly and wittingly. But I knew determination and stubbornness would not be enough, and unless I let Luke do it in my place, there was no other way.</p><p>If I asked him to ride, he would jump on the chance with both feet. But I wouldn't. One thing I learned from respectable superiors, was to never make a subordinate do something you wouldn't do yourself. Which was precisely why I didn't even entertain the idea of asking him. Luke wasn't a subordinate, but he did follow my orders, (usually) without question.</p><p>I thought of Tyler Wolfe, the second man I saved from Peggies in Hope County, on Dutch's island. He died following my orders. He died in agony, screaming for me as the vehicle on top of him <em>burned—</em></p><p>I bashed my fist on the table. Fuck. I hadn't thought about Tyler for a long time. Didn't let myself. It made my insides feel like stone.</p><p>I pulled down a few slats of the Venetian blinds with one finger, peering out into the predawn. I could see Jess, Luke and Sharky chilling by a barrel fire. Jess was inspecting her arrows. The boys looked to be scrapping again.</p><p>Any one of them could die today. They could die because they were choosing to stand by me, when this was my fight, my problem. They were making a choice to abandon their right to choose, deciding to follow my orders, and if they did, and I made a mistake, they could pay for it with their lives.</p><p>I was gripping a Bliss vial so hard it vibrated on the tabletop, my shaking hand white at the knuckles. And then, as though from a recording, I heard the voice of Matt “<span>Maddog</span>” Peterson, one of my last commanding officers.</p><p>
  <em>Don't do it alone, because you can't. You're not a superhero. You are a man. And men work best in teams. This is your team. They answer to you. You will lose some, but you will keep going, because the rest of them need you to. Without you, they are nothing.</em>
</p><p>He was dead now, his remains never recovered from a collapsed building in some dusty, war-beaten city on the other side of the planet. But his words were immortalized in my mind. They were not unlike what Eli Palmer told me, one day when I returned to the Wolf's Den with only half the number of Whitetails he had sent me with, and not one of those alive unscathed. A bloody but ultimate successful raid, I nevertheless felt I had failed Eli.</p><p>
  <em>We're all here by choice, Dep. These brave men and women fight for a cause worth <span>fightin'</span> for. I'm not making them stay. They can leave whenever they want. But they don't. Know why? If you gotta ask, you're not the man I thought you were.</em>
</p><p>Eli had been right. There had been no shortage of volunteers for the next raid, not that I ever got the chance to lead another; I got caught by Jacob Seed's men not a day later, stuffed into one of those cages and starved.</p><p>I sighed, flinging the Bliss vial back into my bag and resting my brow on my knuckles.</p><p>I knew what I had to do. And mulling it over again and again wasn't going to change anything. I was only wasting time now. I had wanted us to be in position before the sun rose, to catch the Archangel's attention before it wandered off again. Hence Luke's wake-up call.</p><p>One more sigh, then I was on my feet and slinging my bag over my shoulder. Time to end this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was cold, but I was hot, sitting astride <em>Jackrabbit</em> in the middle of a clearing, the promise of yet another dawn at my back. I had dug trenches in the dirt with my boots, fingerless gloves binding and bunching around the handlebars. Jaw ached from clenching my teeth. I exhaled, the sound amplified in my own head as a plume escaped the full-face helmet. Hated what the damn thing did to my peripherals, but I couldn't trust muscle memory to keep me from crashing in the hills beyond...not that I would have a chance of surviving if I crashed anyway. A helmet wasn't going to save me from being pummelled into a pile of goo. But at least it had been rigged with a radio, so I wouldn't be cut off.</p><p>On either side of me was a Peggy-mobile with sound systems big enough for five of me to fit inside, rigged in tandem and loaded with Sharky's mix tape consisting of the 80's finest. The idea was to lure the Archangel, but I had no doubt regular Angels would come a-runnin' as well. Learned that the day I met Sharky Boshaw, and like him, I wasn't sure if they loved it or hated it. I had to trust the Peggies to have taken as many Angels as they could when they retreated on Faith's orders, giving us whatever space we needed.</p><p>I realized I was as taut as a bowstring again and got off the dirt bike, stretching and twisting my back. The leather riding jacket and pants, black with red accents, creaked as they stretched and twisted with me. Dawn didn't seem to be a morning person. And yet it was rising too fast. I wanted to run away. I wanted to get this over with. I was too hot. Then I was too cold. I pounded a beat on the hood of a half-ton, then turned around and boxed the air.</p><p>I was losing it. I needed to find the calm. Anticipation was a stealthy killer, and if I didn't cut it up and organize it into neat piles, things would end before they began. I made myself stand still, facing west, going over the plan in my head.</p><p>Luke was up ahead, at the first marker Jess had left behind yesterday. Once the signal was given, he would light the flare, then move on to the next marker, and the next. The flares would last almost an hour, and I would have a clear red path to follow across the rolling hills and up the mountain. Sharky was already in position at the cliffs overlooking the lake, itching to squeeze the detonator to a series of surprises that would (hopefully) scare the target to its doom. Jess was keeping tabs on the Archangel, less than a couple clicks from here. The stealthiest of us all, she was the only one I could trust to keep below the monster's radar long enough for the plan to take hold.</p><p>It all pivoted on the sun. By the time it rose, Adelaide would already be in the air with <em>Tulip</em>, and she would keep her distance until Jess reported detectable movement from our target. Once it had rubbed the crunchies from its eyes, I would start the music, luring the Archangel to the tasty morsel that was me, and I would haul ass, following the flare trail. Adelaide would then pick up Jess and they would observe from the skies, guns at the ready should anything go awry.</p><p>Which it would, because something always did. The bike might not start. I might get lost. I might not be able to ride fast enough—</p><p>I kicked a tire. I hated that I had little time to plan this. Plan B was to blast the Archangel with helicopter artillery until it gave up or we did; there was no time to think up anything else. Time would only give the creature more opportunities to rip people limb from limb and scatter their giblets like confetti.</p><p>I kicked the tire again.</p><p>"<em>It's alright, Chief, we got this,</em>" hissed the receiver in my helmet.</p><p>I looked to the west. I could make out the shadow of a quad, and a man waving. And I immediately felt at ease. I wasn't alone, and my friends had confidence in me. That was all I needed.</p><p>When the birds began to sing, I downed a dose of Bliss juice, numbing my leg and everything else. When the stars started to fade, I fired up the hymn trucks, keeping the tunes low. When Adelaide appeared on the horizon, Jess reported in. The Archangel was awake.</p><p>Right on fucking schedule.</p><p>I saw the first flare, a red glow by a shrub. My radio chirped.</p><p>"<em>Hi-ho, Silver! Away!</em>" Luke's quad growled as he made for the next ribbon. A second flare burst to life. His silhouette vanished beyond a rise half a click away. I wanted to go. I wanted to go <em>now.</em> But the quad was slower, less agile, and needed time to find all the ribbons and make it to the party at the end of the line. I didn't even want to think of what would happen if I overcame my friend with a hangry Archangel on my ass.</p><p>I looked to the sky. Adelaide was there, just high enough to be ignored by the target. I waved at her.</p><p>"<em>Mornin</em><em>', Deputy. My, you sure do look fine in that riding gear, damn. Bounce a quarter off that ass and get back a gold doubloon!</em>"</p><p>I was glad I couldn't hear anyone's laughter. My cheeks burned.</p><p>"<em>Target's stopping for a refreshment</em>," Jess reported. "<em>I reckon you got less than ten minutes, Luke.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Roger that, </em><em>m'lady.</em>"</p><p>I could barely hear the quad now. And the stars were hard to see.</p><p>The downfall to my helmet was, although I could listen, I couldn't speak. I pulled it off and engaged a hand-held.</p><p>"Disco party begins in five. Repeat, Disco in five."</p><p>"<em>Copy that, </em><em>bromie,</em>" came Sharky's reply. "<em>Party favours locked and loaded. Over.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Eyes in the sky have visual, honey.</em>" Adelaide. "<em>It's gonna be a beautiful day.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Marker twenty lit. I'm over half way there. Watch the shale here, Chief, over,</em>" Luke warned.</p><p>"<em>Let's do this shit,</em>" said Jess.</p><p>In five, I cranked the tunes. Michael Sembello started grooving with <em>Maniac</em>. Which is certainly what I felt like.</p><p>"<em>Louder, Dep. I can't hear 'em,</em>" Jess radioed.</p><p>I pulled my helmet back on, more to protect my ears than to prepare myself, and I blasted both stereos. The bass throbbed in my chest. Birds took to the skies in outrage. Wincing, I put my hand to my 1911, holstered at my side, conscious of the pump-action shotgun strapped to my back. The safety was on, but I was ready for any wayward Angels summoned by the cacophony. So far, so clear.</p><p>"<em>Target's on the move. You're up, Dep,</em>" said Jess. "<em>Fucking hell, it looks mad.</em>"</p><p>I nearly vaulted and tripped over <em>Jackie</em> at the same time. I somehow got aboard without pulling a groin muscle, but then stomped the kickstarter like an amateur and so I knew I was in trouble.</p><p><em>Idiot! You know how this shit works. For fuck sake, you </em>got<em> it here.</em></p><p>I took a deep breath. Held it. I'd let the engine cool because I found it easier to start it that way, and I'd left the gas on and so only had a few steps to remember.</p><p>"Start her easy," Luke had told me. "She's a good girl but she needs a little help to get going. Treat her nice. It's her last ride, after all."</p><p>I exhaled. Choke. Neutral. Brake and clutch. <em>Now</em> kick.</p><p>
  <em>BRAP-brap-brap-brap!</em>
</p><p><em>Atta</em><em> girl, Jackie</em>, I thought, getting comfortable on the ripped seat. A couple minutes and she would be raring to go.</p><p>
  <em>She's a maniac, maniac on the floor!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And she's dancing like she's never danced before!</em>
</p><p>Music was loud enough to wake the dead. No wonder the Archangel was pissed. <em>I</em> was pissed. <em>Nothing</em> sounded good over a hundred decibels.</p><p>"<em>Bigfoot </em><em>comin</em><em>' in hot, sweetie!</em>" Addie warned. Not that I needed it. I could see trees moving like ents beyond the clearing to the south.</p><p>I revved. <em>Jackie</em> responded. The Archangel would no doubt go for the trucks first, which meant I would need to circle the field to get its attention before following the flare trail. I was ready.</p><p>The song ended. Murray Head was up.</p><p>
  <em>Bangkok, Oriental setting,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the city don't know what the city is getting.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The creme de la creme of the chess world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In a show with everything but Yule Brynner.</em>
</p><p>Hardly a chase theme but it seemed to aggravate the Archangel even more. It exploded into the clearing with a roar, beating its chest, throwing rocks. Then it charged.</p><p>"Let's dance." I put the bike in gear and surged away. As I'd expected, the creature attacked the Peggy trucks, flattening the hood of one and yeeting the other away like a toy. It began to rip apart the speakers of the first truck, yet Murray's crew sang on.</p><p>
  <em>One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The bars are temples but the pearl's ain't free.</em>
</p><p>Wires and speaker parts everywhere. I saw it all as I circled as closely as I dared, a fly the Archangel would long to swat. It noticed me soon enough, and when the music finally died it was my turn.</p><p>I completed the circle and leaned to the west. Grass and scrub flattened beneath my tires. I swore I could feel the ground shake beneath the creature's bounds. In seconds I was at the first flare. I could see the second and third. I leaned. I canted. I accelerated at the foot of the rise. I was fifteen again, racing my buds through the wilds of Oregon. I took the rise at full speed and stood, <em>Jackie'</em>s engine whining higher as she got airtime. When she touched back down on the down slope I let my legs take the impact before sitting again. Couldn't have done <em>that</em> without Bliss.</p><p>"<em>Faster, Deputy!</em>" That was Jess. She would be in the helicopter by now.</p><p>I glanced at the vibrating reflection of a side mirror, secured with duct tape, and saw that indeed I needed more speed. <em>Jackie</em> was more than willing to give it. I was glad, for once, of my short stature, and as the slope continued down for several more yards, the bike bore me away before the Archangel could pounce on top of me. It roared in frustration, sometimes running like a human, other times bounding like an ape. Perhaps it remembered I was the one who shot it in the balls with an explosive arrow, because it looked angrier than I'd ever seen it.</p><p>I returned my focus to the trail. It was relatively level, following a dried stream bed, forest to my right and left but clear for a mile ahead. Jess had done a good job so far, marking a smooth riding path. But there were still dangers. Ruts. Stumps. Hidden lumps of rock. If I didn't stay on the path, if I cheated corners, I could faceplant and scorpion into oblivion. The target had no such restrictions. I had to go around logs; the Judge could go over.</p><p>I bowed lower, heartbeat loud in my ears. Another rise was fast approaching, a flare spitting at its peak. I could see treetops beyond it, and miles beyond them, the forested hill that was my goal.</p><p>"<em>You're almost to old growth, Dep.</em>"</p><p>I nearly dismissed the update until I realized what Jess was implying. Old growth meant big, thick pines. Even if the beast could break them, they would still slow it down. I took heart, and hit the throttle, and <em>Jackie</em> bore me up and over the rise, then down towards woodland.</p><p>And then I realized I'd lost count of the markers. Uh oh. Luke had warned me about loose ground near marker—</p><p>"<em>Shit!</em>"</p><p>The Yamaha nearly slid out from under me as I tried to straighten from a turn. Rocks spat out beneath whirling tires. I abandoned the manoeuvre and continued straight. I used the face of a knoll to get back on the flare path. And then I was in the trees.</p><p>"<em>Doing great, sweetie,</em>" came Adelaide's voice.</p><p>"<em>Gee, thanks, Aunt Addie!</em>"</p><p>"<em>I was </em><em>talkin'</em><em> to the deputy, Sharky.</em>"</p><p>I'd heard nothing from Luke, and it worried me. He was supposed to declare when he finished lighting the flares and rendezvoused with Sharky. Either he hadn't made it yet or I had missed his report in my adrenaline rush. If only this helmet had a speaker!</p><p>I bent low over the handlebars to avoid a branch. I had to push the thought aside. If Luke was down, there was nothing I could do right now. And it had been decided that, once I got close to the cliffs, Adelaide would fly Tulip over the ambush point, to act as a beacon, just in case.</p><p>A rock the size of my head shot past me, narrowly missing my left shoulder. Sonuvabitch, it was throwing stuff now. I could see the beast in the mirror, not stopping to find anything specific just grabbing shit up as it ran and throwing wildly, frustrated but determined not to fall behind. Then a branch whipped my helmet, punishing me for not paying attention to the perils ahead, like the number of trees that had lost their grip and were slipping down the hill on my left. And the piles of rock from mini slides. And, oh good. My leg was starting to hurt.</p><p>
  <em>Flares. Just focus on the flares.</em>
</p><p>Every red flame I saw gave me hope. Not only because they heralded an end to this bullshit, but also because it meant Luke had at least made it this far. I broke out of the trees and slipped into the trough between two hills. Looking ahead, I saw my path swept down onto a hiking trail for a while, then broke away, up the mountain. Trees, juts of rock, loose ground. It was daunting, but if a quad could make it, a bike could too.</p><p>...Right?</p><p>Over the whining bike and rampaging Archangel I could hear a thumping. Chanced a glance up to see <em>Tulip</em> shooting ahead and hovering over the trap we had set. It was almost done! Up the mountainside I went, the Archangel tireless behind me, fighting sliding rocks and weaving between scraggly trees.</p><p>Wait. Where's the next flare?</p><p>Hell, where was the last one?</p><p>I couldn't look behind me, not without threatening my balance or losing speed. There was nowhere else to go here but once I peaked the mountain there would still a labyrinth to navigate, and I had lost Ariadne's string.</p><p>
  <em>You're just going to have to use those thinky thinky parts between your ears, then, dipshit.</em>
</p><p>Like a fatigued runner I barely made the last few feet at the peak of the rise. There were many trees here, and mounds of rock everywhere. But the grass was short and I could see more dangers than I could before. Still no flares though.</p><p><em>Jesus, Luke, no</em>...</p><p><em>Tulip</em> was my beacon. Her pink-cameo hull gleamed like gold in the rising sun. As I neared, she rose higher, to avoid distracting the Archangel. As I sped west, she eased east, to close the gauntlet behind us. I pictured Jess hanging out the side of <em>Tulip</em>'s cockpit, fire arrow at the ready.</p><p>I could see our trap. Sharky had lit green flares, lining the runway, a clear shot over the cliffs. I passed the first marker. Sensing an end, the Archangel gained. There was a sudden <em>whoosh</em> and the path behind us erupted in flames. There was no turning back.</p><p>Jess' job done, it now came down to Sharky, who detonated explosives used for avalanche control. The sound washed through me like a wave. The Archangel shrieked with terror and I knew it was no longer chasing me, but fleeing from the fire and noise. I just happened to be in its way.</p><p>I pushed <em>Jackie</em> as fast as she could go. A second explosion made me jump. This time smoke thicker than soup bellowed up from the ground and dammit, I was supposed to be further ahead before that trap was sprung but what was done was done and all I had to do was keep going straight long enough—</p><p>I cleared the smoke screen and found myself on the edge of oblivion. With the third deafening crack of explosives, I was over the cliff and plunging a million feet to the lake below.</p><hr/><p>It was the strangest sensation. There was no ground beneath me, the dirt bike felt like nothing. I let it go, felt the wind beneath my arms, and if I spread them wide enough, I would fly. The air was golden up here, and I wanted to stay.</p><p>The bike was several feet ahead of me when I remembered the law of gravity, and I was a cop, I enforced the law.</p><p>Fall. Fall, dammit.</p><p>It fell. And I fell. I fell through the sheet of gold and plunged into the mountain's shadow. It allowed me to see Dead Man's Lake and why the hell did they have to call it <em>that</em> and it was coming up fast.</p><p>A roar of terror. I raised my eyes. Blinded by the smoke, the Archangel had not seen its incoming demise, and with the last explosion it had <em>leaped</em> off the cliff, further than my bike had gone, and now it was falling several feet ahead of me. It thrashed the air as though to catch a wind thermal. And I knew it was no longer a threat. I had won.</p><p>A victory short-lived if I didn't land in the water properly.</p><p>Didn't have a 'chute. There wasn't enough height for one to fully open. I yanked the full-faced helmet off and pushed it away, straightening myself so I was falling feet first. Crossed my legs, hooking my ankles. One arm wrapped around my chest, the other bent so that my hand clasped my mouth and nose closed. The Archangel hit the water hard, last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.</p><p>The worst part was the few seconds I misjudged my velocity. I landed later than I expected, and it hurt, and it was cold, but nothing dislocated and I didn't inhale water. But I was still stunned, stunned I was alive, feeling bubbles tickle my cheeks like little fish.</p><p>Up, they said. Up!</p><p>I followed the bubbles, a hesitant stroke growing in strength and urgency as my lungs demanded air. I broke the surface, spewing water everywhere, thrashing like an osprey struggling to escape with its prey. As I calmed, so did the surface. Waves washed up on the shores of the small lake, evidence of the massive weight that had disturbed it just before I did.</p><p>I didn't want to look. But I did. Dipped below and opened my eyes. It was too dark to see much, the lake sitting in the mountain's shadow, but I could still make out bubbles lightening the water in the depths. If I didn't know better, I would have thought a whale was lingering at the bottom of the lake. A dark mass moved. The Archangel was trying to jump off the lake floor.</p><p>I surfaced and trod water. Waited. Muscles tightened with cold but I had to be certain. I heard nothing. Not even <em>Tulip.</em> Hopefully Sharky had informed them Luke was MIA, and they were looking for him.</p><p>After a couple minutes I made for the opposite shore of the lake. It was further away, but I could see tents over there, and a wisp of smoke. A camp. Looked more appealing than the rocky shore behind me.</p><p>I was fully aware I was back in Holland Valley when I crawled ashore, shaking like a wet puppy, but I didn't give a shit. I dragged my bad leg, yellow reeds flattening beneath me, fingers bitten by icy mud. I didn't look up to see who, if anyone, occupied the camp. My arms trembled, but I made them haul my sorry bag of bones of a body all the way out of the water before collapsing face down.</p><p>Why the hell was I so...?</p><p>Eyes cracked open. There was a green barrel but feet away, its poison oozing into the water, fumes hanging low in the cold morning air. Oh.</p><p>I fought the haze. Closed my eyes to the snowflakes. Clung to reality like a stain.</p><p>
  <em>Clap. Clap. Clap.</em>
</p><p>Forced my eyes open again. Someone was disturbing the reeds further ashore. Getting closer. Stopping near my head. I could almost taste his presence. Overbearing and confident, it could only be one man, and he was the last one I wanted to see.</p><p>John Seed's slow clap ended as he knelt, inspecting me as though I was some interesting debris that had washed ashore.</p><p>"Well done, Deputy. I had thought you lost at the end, there."</p><p>I was beneath a mountain of snow, but I shifted, stirred, got a hand beneath me.</p><p>"Easy, easy." John gripped my upper arm with surprising gentleness, and began to help me roll over. I drew my knife and struck like a cobra.</p><p>But he was faster.</p><p>"Ah ah ah," he sang, and I tried to push my head into the ground to get away from his own blade pressing against my neck, threatening an extra close shave. His other hand gripped my wrist. "Drop it."</p><p>I dropped it. He flicked it away and rolled me onto my back, scanning me. Then he looked up at the cliff I had just ridden off of. There was still smoke up there.</p><p>"I'm trying to decide whether you are very brave or very stupid." He smiled at me, blue eyes bespeaking love and trust. But I knew there was anything but in that black soul of his. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You've fulfilled your end of the bargain. Now I will fulfill mine." He drew a radio. "Teams three, seven, nine, withdraw." It returned to his belt. "There."</p><p>I shifted feebly. Didn't like the way he was smiling. I heard the rumble of vehicles, doors slamming. Oh no.</p><p>"You're tired. We'll get you somewhere warm. Have a look at that leg." He tsked. "My brother, some days, I swear."</p><p>Two men took my 1911 from my holster and the shotgun from my back. After patting me down for other weapons, they gripped my arms, and began to drag me further from the water. My protests were lame. John followed, chastising his men.</p><p>"Be careful, now! He is injured, and he is our brother. Oh, stop <em>struggling,</em> Deputy."</p><p>Away from the Bliss fumes I regained some control, of mind and body, and tried to tug my arms free. The Peggies held me easily, and although it seemed worse to fight, I couldn't help it. I dug my heels into the mud, tried to get my feet under me. John watched with pity and amusement. Then we were on the road. I could hear van doors opening. I looked up, searching for help, and John's smile grew wider.</p><p>"Don't worry, their time will come soon enough. I told them to back off or watch you face...deadly consequences."</p><p>I felt the rear bumper of the van against my back and thrashed hard enough to break an arm free. Used it to swing at the other Peggy, slugging him straight in the jaw. He barked angrily as his companion gripped both my shoulders, unable to grab fistfuls of the stiff riding gear. I kicked back at him, punched the other again, but they kept grabbing hold. I glared fire at John as I thrashed. He was watching the spectacle with the ghost of a smile, hands behind his back, at ease. I wanted at him. I wanted to <em>rip</em> that look off his face!</p><p>I reached back and gripped a Peggy by his shoulders, throwing my weight into a tumble and dragging him with me. He crashed onto his back, winded, me half on top of him. I kicked his companion in the knee and he staggered with a yelp of surprise. Time and time again I had to prove to these fuckwads that I might be small, but I was mean.</p><p>They were down, and I had a chance. John was there. Right fucking there. I rolled, got both legs under me, lunged—</p><p>And was promptly flattened by another Peggy.</p><p>I squirmed but he put his knee on the back of my neck, squishing my face into the mud. More hands pressed my legs and arms down. For several seconds I couldn't breathe as they yanked my hands behind me and zip-tied my wrists together. An iron grip bruised my shoulder, yanking me up. I gasped and snorted mud, hair plastered to my face, blind. They were hauling me backwards again, but with tighter grips and colourful curses.</p><p>"Hold a moment."</p><p>John's voice. I opened my eyes a slit. The Baptist helped by brushing the mud away with his own sleeve. Then he cupped my face, made me look at him.</p><p>"You know, Deputy, actions reveal our true natures, far more than any words." He looked from one eye to the other, then down at my chest, as though imagining the sin he would tattoo there. Then he looked into my eyes again, and there was that smile. My insides clenched.</p><p>John released me and scooped the air with his hands. "Carry on."</p><p>Only my feet were still out of the van when we all heard the scream.</p><p>Feminine. Raspy. Not unlike a cougar but definitely not a cougar. I'd heard it only once before. John looked perturbed, looking into the trees for the source. The unease of his men was augmented by their leader's reaction and they shifted, mumbling.</p><p>"What in the name of the Father...?"</p><p>I said something softly. John turned to me. "What?"</p><p>"I said, there's two."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The van doors slammed shut behind me and two Peggies took their seats, leaving me on the floor. A third Peggy got behind the wheel and John barked orders as he got in the passenger seat. I could hear two one-tons growling to life, one in front of us, one behind, as we peeled off down the road. We took a corner too fast and I rolled into a bench with a grunt of protest.</p><p>"Why didn't you tell me there were two?" John snapped, and I wasn't sure if he was asking me or his men. No one said anything but he seemed to realize the pointlessness of the question. We were clear on the other side of the region from the safety of his bunker, and getting his followers all worked up wouldn't help.</p><p>Not sure how I was convinced, but I was. There were two Archangels, and I had just killed the male. Those strange markings in the trees must have been from the female. What I thought had been a random, haphazard search for Bliss might not have been the male's objective at all. It might have been searching for, or perhaps chasing, the female. And suddenly I felt worse. The big boy was just looking to have a good shag, that's all.</p><p>I squirmed and kicked until I was able to sit up, bracing my feet against the opposite bench so I would stop rolling around. I noticed John looking back at me through the mesh. Expression of stone.</p><p>"...You didn't know."</p><p>I shook my head.</p><p>"Will it follow us?"</p><p>Pause. Nod.</p><p>The van <em>clunked</em> over a pothole. John turned away and pulled out his radio. I caught snatches of his orders. He was calling for reinforcements. When he was done, he turned to look through the screen again.</p><p>“Cut him loose.”</p><p>The Peggies in the back with me stared, aghast.</p><p>“Do it!”</p><p>One pushed me over and the other cut the ties.</p><p>“And give him a gun.”</p><p>I rolled my shoulders and wrists, glaring at the Peggies as I accepted a handgun. Then I turned to John.</p><p>“A new deal,” he said. “Help us kill this Archangel, and you will be allowed to go free. This time.”</p><p>Didn't have much of a choice. And him cutting me loose before offering a deal was an act of faith. I nodded, stolid. It was better than a kick in the pants.</p><p>He beckoned me closer and I reluctantly slid up the bench, until I was sitting behind him. Didn't want those piercing blues raking over me, making me feel all exposed.</p><p>“Tell me what you know.”</p><p>I snorted. “The male couldn't swim.”</p><p>“I gathered.”</p><p>“They can be easily lured. We used music.”</p><p>“I know that. We watched you all morning.”</p><p>“...I think the female gets around using trees.” I thought of the strange markings again. Slashes and chunks of missing bark, but also gouges in stone in the Whitetail Mountains.</p><p>“What, like a monkey?”</p><p>I made a sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing.</p><p>“What are they after?” John demanded.</p><p>Hated talking to him this much. Felt like we were on the same team, which we were, no matter how much I loathed the idea. “I think the male was following the female. What she's doing... My best guess, she's after Bliss.” But the male kept scaring her around Hope County, making her head into the Whitetail Mountains, where there was little Bliss, especially compared to the Henbane.</p><p>“Get us out of the woods,” the Baptist told the driver. “Take as many open roads as you can.”</p><p>“Yes, John.”</p><p>I knew what he was thinking. And I knew we wouldn't make it. If we heard it scream, the second Archangel was onto us.</p><p>"...Where's the other truck?"</p><p>I looked back at the Peggy's words. Indeed, the rearguard was gone. John snatched up the radio.</p><p>"Kleaton, report."</p><p>Static.</p><p>He tried again. Nothing. I was given haunting flashbacks of Jurassic Park. I could get a goat vanishing without anyone noticing. But not an entire truck. The rear of the van had no side windows, and I felt like I was viewing the world through a cardboard tube.</p><p>One Peggy had a shotgun. The other an assault rifle. Their knuckles were white around their weapons. Not that they would be of much use.</p><p>“Come on, faster!” the driver moaned, sitting forward and accelerating until he was right on the vanguard's tail.</p><p>A blur of motion in the trees.</p><p>“...Mary, Mother of God.”</p><p>The truck in front of us swerved to avoid a shadow, which shot over us. There was a shriek of metal as though we were being sideswiped by another vehicle, if that vehicle was flying through the air and scratching the roof. The cultists cried out in fear, ducking and raising their weapons.</p><p>“What was that? What the <em>fuck</em> was that? A demon?” The Peggy with the shotgun looked ready to piss himself. I crinkled my nose. Guess he already did.</p><p>His companion closed his eyes and kissed his knuckles. “Father protect us.”</p><p>“Faster, you idiot!” the driver urged the truck ahead of us. We were already going recklessly fast. Pale yellow fields were in sight between the trunks.</p><p>John flinched. “Look out—!”</p><p>The van swerved left, then violently right, flinging me across the way and slamming me against the other wall. And then the van tipped, crashing on its side and sliding several feet before coming to a halt.</p><p>I could hear John cursing as he disentangled himself from the driver. The Peggies in the rear were shouting, weapons banging against the sides of the van.</p><p>"<em>Shut up!</em>"</p><p>They were all too stunned by my outburst to argue, staring at me in shock. And then the driver began to stutter.</p><p>"D-d-did you see it? D-did—?"</p><p>"Shh!" John, at least, seemed to agree with me. Maybe if we were quiet, maybe, just maybe...</p><p>Silence, but for the hum of the unhappy engine and the driver's terrified breathing. John's window had been slightly cracked, and so we heard branches rustling overhead. I couldn't see out of that window, now pointing at the sky, but when I asked John with my eyes if he could see anything, he shook his head tersely.</p><p><em>Thunk</em>. Something landed on the side of the van, making it rock. I ducked my head despite myself, looking up as though to see through the siding. Where the hell was John's endless army when you needed them?!</p><p><em>Screee-</em>thud<em>. Screee-</em>thud<em>. </em>A weird sounding gait. This Archangel wasn't nearly as big as the first, or the van would have caved in on me.</p><p>I looked at the two Peggies stuck back here with me. Wondered if I looked as scared as they did. Decided not. But Shotgun was reaching for the rear door handle. I shook my head.</p><p>Don't you fucking <em>dare</em>.</p><p><em>Screee</em>-thud. <em>Screee</em>-thud. <em>Clunk</em>. A shadow fell across the passenger window.</p><p>Never thought I'd see John Seed so white. Didn't like it. It humanized him too much. But then I could see what was spooking him, and didn't blame him.</p><p>Where the male Archangel was ham-handed and beefy, this one was scrawny. Bony, with too-long nails. Strands of greasy hair were hanging just within view, but I couldn't see its face.</p><p>I hope you locked your door, John.</p><p>The Archangel seemed content to stare down at the Baptist and the driver, as though waiting for them to make the next move. Assessing the threat. Then the radio squealed. It wasn't that that set the creature off. It was the driver snatching at the radio to silence it.</p><p>The Archangel was weedy but it was strong. It ripped off the passenger door as though it were a Pringles canister, and then reached down for John.</p><p>Thought that was the end for the youngest Seed. But his men, it seemed, were loyal to the death. The driver shoved John aside, shielding him with his own body. Archangel didn't care. It seized the driver by the head and pulled him, screaming, from the cab.</p><p>That was it for the other two Peggies. They kicked open the rear doors and scrambled out. I met John's eyes through the screen. And he knew my intentions even before I did.</p><p>"We have your friend," he said. "You abandon me, and you'll never see him again."</p><p>It was a bluff. I knew it was a bluff. But what if it wasn't? There was a chance John would get killed in the next thirty seconds, but only a chance. Annoying prick that he was, he'd probably escape. But whether he lived or died, Luke, perhaps Sharky, perhaps someone else, could very well be lost for good.</p><p>I curled my lip in a snarl and John smiled. He knew he had me, had a finger on my pulse. Must be nice to have a crazily devoted mob of disposable fanatics rather than a loyal group of friends close enough to be called family.</p><p>It was silent. No screams, no gunshots. I met John's eye.</p><p>"Make for the field," I said lowly, and it felt good to give a Seed an order. "Run like hell."</p><p>He nodded, and as he climbed up and out the passenger door, I crawled out the back, dragging my bad leg. His men were standing a few feet apart, aiming at the canopy. Parts of the driver were everywhere. Oh lovely. I just put my hand on his spleen.</p><p>"Where'd it go?" one Peggy whimpered. "Where'd it go?"</p><p>John was standing near the front of the van. Like me, he wanted to locate the Archangel before trying to escape it. Wouldn't do to go rushing into its loving, disembowelling embrace.</p><p>...Was that...chewing?</p><p>I tilted my head, this way and that, zeroing in on the sound. It was in a fir, the trunk right on the edge of the road. No sooner had I located it, a rib cage came flying out of the shadows, bouncing off the underbelly of the van. Part of a lung slapped against my cheek and stayed there.</p><p>The Peggies screamed and shot wildly. I took the chance to hobble to the other side of the van, near John. Felt silly holding a dinky little handgun, but it was more effective than shaking a fist. And by the looks of things, the bullets were keeping the Archangel at bay.</p><p>"Go, go!" I snapped, and John ran, and the Peggies ran, and I tried to run, but my leg was on fire and old wounds had opened and the best I could do was a pained shamble. Then I made the mistake of shambling beneath a low-hanging branch. The Archangel grabbed me by the back of the neck, long fingers wrapping around my throat. I choked as I was hoisted into the air like a sack of potatoes.</p><p>All I could see were boughs and cones. Needles and branches scratched at every part of exposed skin as I was hauled higher up the tree. With a lurch, we were in the next tree, then the next, back up the road, away from the safety of the field. I grabbed wildly with my free hand. Tried to hook limbs with my legs. I held the handgun like a lifeline, and then thought, Fuck it, and shot into the air.</p><p>The Archangel, now wary of the sound, shrieked like a banshee and released me. And then I was falling. A branch caught me in the gut but I curled around it, gasping emptily. I had a clear view of the dirt road below. I was less than twenty feet up, but if I tried to drop from that height, I'd pass out from the pain.</p><p>I could hear the monster above me. But my eyes were on the reaper truck barrelling down the road my way.</p><p>Couldn't believe my luck. Not only was it tall enough for me to land on safely, reaper trucks never stopped for shit.</p><p>I hooked my good leg over the branch and straddled it, then looked up. Came face to face with the Archangel itself.</p><p>It was one ugly broad. A rake compared to its mate, with stringy hair and broken, burnt-looking skin, radiating Bliss fumes. Its claws were as long as my fingers, gripping the bark like a woodpecker. Weirdly short legs were bunched up between its chest and the trunk. Perching sideways. It was missing a foot, and the other was disfigured. This thing probably couldn't get around very well on the ground.</p><p>It was just staring at me. Vertical slits split lips that oozed black, bulged over too-large teeth. Its eyes were blue. Bloodshot, but sharp. The Bliss radiating off its flesh was affecting me, numbing pain and making me think, just for a second, that I should just lie down and give up.</p><p>A waspish red dot appeared on its shoulder. I almost broke eye contact to look at it. Instead I waited for the<em> crack-whoosh-snap!</em> A sound that lasted less than a second but gave me all the time in the world to break free of the Archangel's hypnotic stare and drop down onto the back of the reaper truck.</p><p>As I counted on, the truck didn't stop at the loud <em>clunk</em> of me landing on it. I rolled onto my back and scanned for the Archangel. Couldn't see it. Couldn't see any of John's snipers either. Guess they'd finally decided to join the party, but at a very, very safe distance.</p><p>I didn't want to think about the fact that I had just been saved by a Peggy. Made my stomach turn.</p><p>I looked ahead. The field was in sight through the trees. There was the toppled Peggy van. The truck veered around it, didn't stop to investigate. It ran over something I didn't see; the suspension bounced and creaked in protest.</p><p>No more gunfire. No screaming either. I didn't look away from the trees until we were out of them. I released a breath. And then I was sliding forward on the white, glossy aluminum roof as brakes hissed and snorted. Astonishingly, the truck <em>stopped</em>.</p><p>There was only one thing that could stop a Peggy goodie box. I peered over the edge in time to see John and the two cultists all cram into the cab. And then I had to grab hold of the edge as the truck lurched forward, taking us ever further from the danger of the woods.</p><p>For the first time in hours my muscles relaxed of their own free will. The roof was cool and I laid my feverish cheek against it. Didn't know where we were going but at that moment I didn't care. I just wanted to <em>rest</em>.</p><p>When I heard the sound of tearing aluminum, I knew what it was. Didn't turn around. If I turned around it would make it real.</p><p>I could hear it breathing, feminine and sickly, even over the rush of wind. I pulled myself forward and eased over the edge of the box, onto the roof of the cab, ducking down. Felt like a child hiding under the blankets from the boogeyman. Except the bed was slippery, with nothing to hold onto but the horns. And this wasn't hiding, because the bitch knew exactly where I was. As soon as I saw its ugly face peering down over the edge of the box, I shot it.</p><p>A shriek, and then I saw claws. I recoiled, slipped, and slid down the windshield backwards on my knees. Startled cries came from inside the cab. The driver swerved to dislodge me, but I grabbed hold of the rear rim of the hood, legs splayed to try and keep in the centre. The handgun was gone.</p><p>Three Peggies and a douchebag were staring at me through the windshield. The douchebag frowned, said something. No, I thought in agreement. No, I didn't know when to die.</p><p>I looked up, and that was enough to warn them I wasn't doing this for fun. The Peggy with the shotgun shouted a warning and fired a shell through the roof. The Archangel shrieked, retreating back onto the box. It might not be as steadfast as its dead mate, but bullets couldn't penetrate its hide either.</p><p>I closed my eyes and summoned an aerial view of the valley. The Henbane, the deepest river around, was miles east and south of here. The opposite direction. The Reservoir was further still, to the north. Dammit, what other bodies of water—?</p><p>The van took a sharp turn and I opened my eyes, somehow managing to cling onto the hood. We were heading due west. I could see the radio tower reflected in the windshield. If we kept going, we'd eventually reach Fall's End.</p><p>Oh no, you don't!</p><p>I twisted my head around, looking for an idea, looking for...</p><p>There. A barn. A barn I only recognized because I'd woken up inside of it after a Bliss coma just a few days ago. Abandoned, inside of it was—</p><p>I bashed on the windshield and pointed to the structure. "Go! Go there!"</p><p>I could tell by his face the driver wasn't going to obey. But we could all hear the Archangel ripping up the roof of the cargo box to get inside and John decided to humour me. He barked an order. The Peggy braked and cranked the wheel, and this time I had to grab onto a windshield wiper and brace my leg against a side mirror to avoid flying off. Cursing, I glared at John's smirk. But then it was his turn to curse as his shotgun buddy twisted around and shot out the back of the cab, into the box. The Archangel was inside, creating quite the ruckus.</p><p>I saw the barn's reflection growing in the windshield, and so had warning before the Peggy slammed on the brakes, the truck slipping across the mud to a stop. I slid off the hood and became aware of how warm it'd been, my front suddenly plunging into cold.</p><p>I didn't wait to see what the others were doing, limping to the barn. I yanked one of the double doors open. There, looming in the dark, was a combine.</p><p>I had gambled the male Archangel couldn't swim. Won that round. Now I was gambling the female couldn't walk properly.</p><p>I turned around. John and his men had abandoned the cab. The whole truck was rocking and tilting, dents and tears appearing from inside the cargo box. It sounded like a trapped velociraptor.</p><p>The Peggies were looking around for anything of use. Besides the barn there was only a house, a shed and a rundown pickup, rusted to shit.</p><p>"Demon! He's led us to our deaths!" The driver pulled his rifle on me.</p><p>"He has a plan," said John, calm as a cucumber despite the truck behind him being ripped apart from the inside out. But his eyes were scorching me, daring me to make him a liar.</p><p>I studied the four of them. Hard to believe just a few hours ago I was bemoaning the fact my team consisted of people I cared deeply for. Now I was complaining my team were of people I despised.</p><p>I cracked my knuckles and gritted my teeth. Then held my hand out.</p><p>"Radio."</p><p>John nodded to a Peggy and he tossed one over.</p><p>"Keep it busy," I said, and made for the combine.</p><p>By the time I reached it, the Archangel had torn a new hole into the side of the truck and escaped. Screams and hollers and gunshots, hellish screams of rage. Fiddling with the radio dial, I broke a promise I'd made to myself.</p><p>"Sundance, this is Butch. I need a flyby, over."</p><p>Waited all of three seconds.</p><p>"<em>This is Sundance, hear you loud and clear, partner. Over.</em>"</p><p>Nick Rye would need time to get his plane in the air. I would use that time to figure out how to tell him where we were. It would be nice to have a flare gun or a handy cult silo to blow up—</p><p>Thuds and creaks. Through slits between the boards I could see a shape crawling up the side of the barn. The firing had stopped. With only limited ammo, they were conserving their shot for when the creature got close. At least these Peggies weren't completely stupid.</p><p>But I did wonder what John was playing at. Where were his hordes?</p><p>Turning back to the combine, I twisted off the fuel cap and sniffed. Old, but present. I clambered up into the cab. It smelled of cig smoke and there was a rubber ducky on the dash. A chicken nest covered the chair, which I knocked out before taking a seat. The key was hanging on a hook.</p><p>I patted myself down. Unzipped a pocket and pulled out a crumpled packet of smokes. Had one left. I tucked the packet away. I really wanted it. But I wouldn't get it if I kicked the bucket.</p><p>So don't kick the bucket.</p><p>Somehow I got the tired engine to turn over. Somehow I got it into gear. No, I've never driven any piece of farm equipment in my life but I knew livestock was a guilty pleasure for this particular breed of machine. Now what does this do—?</p><p><em>Beep, beep, beep.</em> A loud grating sound, then rancid grains shot out of some kind of chute hanging off the side, behind the cab. I turned it off. Not that one.</p><p>John and his men were retreating into the barn. Able to see the Archangel from inside, through the boards, I supposed they felt safer in here.</p><p>I pushed another button. The head in front of the combine tilted. Dammit. How do you turn the blades on?</p><p>My radio hissed. "<em>Butch, I need a target, over.</em>"</p><p>I cursed. Forgot about that.</p><p>"Take her east of the radio tower. Stand by, over."</p><p>"<em>Roger that, Deputy.</em>"</p><p>John overheard me, and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest Peggy.</p><p>"Get a fire going! Use the propane tank on the side of the house. Go!"</p><p>It was the Peggy with the shotgun. He nodded and rushed outside. And then John climbed up the side of the combine.</p><p>"What's taking so long?"</p><p>I gestured hopelessly at all the dials and knobs and levers, still unable to find what turned on the blades. It was old, all the labels worn off. John reached across me and started playing with them despite my protests.</p><p>"I tried that one already—"</p><p>"Stop pushing me!"</p><p>"<em>Heads up!</em>" With a Peggy's cry several chunks of wood rained down from the roof. Light beamed through a rapidly growing hole. It was blocked briefly as a shape scuttled inside like a giant roach, disappearing into the loft.</p><p>I threw the combine into drive and it lurched off its ancient resting place, rattling and clanking and breaking through stalls. Exhaust fumes filled the barn. John clung on to the side of the cab, and the combine's head smashed open the double doors, out to freedom. I veered away from the house fated to blow up any second, and began to circle the barn. The Peggies followed and took two points, covering the front and back of the structure with assault rifles. I could see where the Archangel had climbed up the barn, gouges exposing fresher wood in the water-stained siding.</p><p>"Now what?" John demanded.</p><p>We needed to get the damn thing on the ground. That was where Nick came in. I could see him, a tiny yellow speck to the southwest. I glared at the house, which should be up in flames by now.</p><p>John read my mind. "I should like to remind you that <em>you</em> are the expert here at destroying things, dear deputy."</p><p>I gave him a feral grin, and then flinched as an eruption blew the house apart. By experience, I could tell from the sound it had been the sizable propane tank located beside the building. John had gripped my arm so hard in surprise that I had to stare at him with an eyebrow cocked for several seconds before he let go, grunting what almost sounded like an apology.</p><p>"We could have tried to blow up the creature with the house," he said.</p><p>Not sure even you could have convinced it to go over there by itself, I thought distractedly. I picked up my radio but Nick beat me to it.</p><p>"<em>Oh, I see you now, partner. </em><em>Movin</em><em>' in.</em>"</p><p><em>Carmina</em> made a smooth turn towards us. I widened the circle around the doomed barn, and as the plane neared, I clicked the radio speaker.</p><p>"Take a load off, Sundance. Give me a view."</p><p>"<em>Ten-four.</em>"</p><p>I wondered if a bomb would be enough to take out the Archangel. Decided a second later I shouldn't bother thinking about it because the Judge had just crawled out of the hole in the roof. It noticed us putting around in a noisy machine as <em>Carmina</em> dipped into shooting range.</p><p>"Deputy..."</p><p>John sounded scared. Knew why. I looked to the float plane, coming in hot. Not hot enough. The Archangel had already launched itself off the barn towards us by the time Nick dropped a bomb on the structure, but the debris still hit us before the creature did.</p><p>I threw up an arm to protect my face as a small sun spawned and died in the heart of the barn. Chunks of wood pelted the combine. John disappeared. Didn't see where the Archangel went. A corner of the barn was still standing, barely. Nick had peeled up and away but was coming back around.</p><p>"<em>Sweet son of a carpenter. What the hell is that thing?</em>"</p><p>Must have looked really strange to him from a distance. Like a hairless chimp flying through the air. Planet of the Apes au naturel.</p><p>"Finish off the barn!" I ordered him. Had to keep the creature grounded. I started fiddling with dials again, trying to get the damn blades of the combine to turn. Nick called for a repeat and I fumbled with the radio. But then I heard something I never thought I'd hear.</p><p>"Deputy! Help me!"</p><p>The sound was so desperate I twisted around, to see the Archangel bearing down on John. The Peggy who had tried to shelter him was already in pieces, the other was nowhere in sight. With the creature distracted, now would have been the time to mow it down...except the blades still weren't spinning and this machine probably didn't have a great turning radius.</p><p>Something inside of me was broken. My head said, Let it kill John Seed. But my stupid heart only heard the desperate cries of another human being in terror and all politics were shoved aside. I turned out of the cab, launched off a rear fender and wrapped my arms around the Archangel's neck from behind.</p><p>It stopped a slashing blow it was about to deal John, already bleeding on the ground, and staggered under my weight. With a shriek it reached back to grab at me. Razor claws opened up my shoulders. The Bliss was so strong I nearly let go, but then John rolled onto his back and open fired at the creature's chest with a handgun, the sound enough to bring me back from the brink of oblivion. At such close range the Judge staggered back, and I felt the impacts through its chest. Unsure now of who to attack next, it reached for John again, whom it could see was causing it pain. I used that critical decision to punish the Archangel, digging my fingers into its eye sockets.</p><p>Such was the sound that came from it even John looked revolted. And it threw me off, clawing at its own face, seeking what was blinding it. My hands dripped with eyeball juice.</p><p>I got up, boots scraping through dirt. The Archangel froze, then turned towards me. Sniffing.</p><p>Sonuvabitch.</p><p>I dodged around the combine, fast as my leg would allow, and the creature hobbled on its gibbled legs after me, not fast but with certainty. It was crippled but so was I, and it was like running in a nightmare. I stumbled around the front of the machine, and then felt a sheering pain across the back of my bad leg. I cried out and fell, right in front of the combine blades.</p><p>They started turning.</p><p>The sound spooked the Archangel. It backed off, screaming a challenge, and I rolled, scrambling away from the danger. I looked to the cab. I could see John's white, diabolical grin through the dusty windshield.</p><p>With a lurch and a rumble the combine rolled forward past me. The Archangel was in its path, shambling, unable to get away with its buggered legs.</p><p>Like a gruesome car crash I couldn't look away. The combine head blocked the view from where I was standing, but I still saw the Archangel go down, yanked into the gnashing blades like a ragdoll. The combine jolted and whined in protest, the blades slowing, and just as it seemed the motors would burst from the strain, the Judge's hide gave. The blades quickened, eating up the Archangel like a tough side of beef, chewing until the screaming stopped. With a groan and puff of smoke the motors died, the blades ruined by their last meal.</p><p>I stood there, staring, making sure, while John did something in the cab.</p><p>
  <em>Beep, beep, beep.</em>
</p><p>I looked up. Red. A torrent of grains, flesh, bone and guts gushed out of the unloading augur chute off the side of the combine, directly over my head.</p><p>It was hot, and sticky, and I stood there with my stomach churning. John killed the engine and turned around to investigate the sound. He looked genuinely surprised at what he'd done. Winced when the chute burped out one more tiny bit of Archangel onto my head.</p><p>"Oh, dear. So sorry about that."</p><p>I said nothing, saliva roiling in my mouth as I tried not to be sick. Something else was roiling in there too. I spat it out. Flicked my arms, sending greasy chunks off my hands. I tried to wipe offal from my cheek but only succeeded in smearing it around.</p><p>Something cold, hard and lean pressed against the back of my skull.</p><p>"Stand down," said John, stepping lithely from the combine as though he'd done it a thousand times before. The gun barrel dropped away, and I didn't even dignify the offending cultist with an acknowledgement. Instead I pulled out the crunched pack of smokes, stuffing the last one in my mouth. John offered a light. Blinked curiously when I held up a hand in refusal, and watched me nibble on the dart. Then we both looked up as the rumbling buzz of <em>Carmina</em> circled over us, just high enough so Nick wouldn't be able to see who we were.</p><p>My radio chirped. "<em>As I live and breathe, that was something else.</em>"</p><p>"Tell him to leave," John ordered.</p><p>I unclipped the radio, astounded it still worked. "Thanks, Nick. I owe you a drink."</p><p>"<em>You owe me an </em><em>explan-</em>ation, <em>partner...! You good? Who's that with you?</em>"</p><p>"No one I can't handle."</p><p>"<em>...Alright. Later, Deputy.</em>"</p><p>He tilted south, back to his airstrip. If I had given him a different, coded response, he wouldn't have gone. But John and I had made a deal and I knew he'd honour it.</p><p>The Baptist watched the yellow plane until it was invisible. "You know, my own pilots could have blown up the barn."</p><p>I snorted. Most of his "pilots" were dead. And I doubted any of them would have been able to hit the barn on the first try. Evidence: I was still kicking. He caught me smirking and scowled, then grinned.</p><p>"If you like, I can give you a second baptism, wash away all that...sin."</p><p>I turned and began walking away from him.</p><p>"I promise not to drown you this time!"</p><p>I flipped the bird over my shoulder and made my way over to the ground pump. En route I saw the last Peggy staggering over. He had no eyebrows and scorch marks everywhere. When his buddy tried to talk to him, he cupped a hand to his ear. "<em>What?!</em>"</p><p>I shook my head and began to wash myself in the icy water of the pump, getting off everything I could. I'd hoped that John would accept the dismissal, but in vain.</p><p>"I trust you understand this does not change anything," he said. I tried not to flinch. Hadn't heard him following.</p><p>I straightened, splashing water around the back of my neck. I peeled off the riding jacket and dumped it on the ground. The white T beneath was stained with sweat and Archangel juice.</p><p>John was right behind me. Too close.</p><p>"You <em>are</em> a curiosity, aren't you. You could have let the Judge kill me. You did not."</p><p>I stuck my head under the pump's flow to soak my hair, then straightened, pulling out chunks of flesh. John got tired of me ignoring him and grabbed my arm, turning me around to face him.</p><p>"I will find out what makes you tick, Deputy. Perhaps not today, but soon. You will let me open you. You will let me save you."</p><p>I was unimpressed with his promise and so just stared at him. John picked what looked like a tooth off my shoulder and flicked it away. And then he said,</p><p>"You haven't forgotten about Hudson, have you? She's been <em>longing</em> to see you."</p><p>And there was the coil of triumph in his eyes, as anger clouded mine. I could hear vehicles approaching.</p><p>"So easy, Deputy, so easy." He finally turned away, back to his two faithfuls. His back had been slashed open by the Archangel, but he moved as though the pain fuelled him. "You'll find your friends safe and whole where you left them, by the way," he said over his shoulder, as his very, very late reinforcements pulled up to the ruins to pick him up. "You're going to have to be less predictable if you want to play with me."</p><p>I had already turned away, upending the bucket under the pump to refill it with fresh water, pretending the cultists were nothing more than cow patties. A white pickup made a loop around the pump, because John couldn't leave well enough alone, the prick.</p><p>"I'll give you a day's head start," he called out the window. "See you soon, Deputy."</p><p>The small envoy pealed away, leaving me alone in the ruins of the abandoned farm. Again.</p><p>I sighed through my nose, pinched the dart, then nibbled it some more.</p><p>Dick.</p><hr/><p>"You just can't keep your nose clean, can you?"</p><p>I shrugged one shoulder as Luke jumped out of the passenger side of a pickup, near the dock. He was scratched and battered from his tumble off the quad, but a couple scraped knees weren't gonna put this hunter down.</p><p>Sharky got out of the driver side and joined me where I was leaning against a post of the dock. "Heard you've been Marked again. Guess you gotta go."</p><p>"Jess is back in the mountains," said Luke. "Soon as we learned you were alive, she high-tailed it back. Said she got some shit to do."</p><p>I nodded, expecting nothing less. As I promised her, I would join her and help her take back the Whitetails. There was just something I had to take care of first.</p><p>Sharky looked at his feet, shotgun over one shoulder.</p><p>"Look, uh, Hurk, there. He asked me to meet him in the Henbane for some, uh, recon. And I said, sure, yo, just let me get the okay from the big man. And by big man, I mean you, even though, y'know, you're not that big. Kinda small, actually. I mean I'm sure everything <em>down there</em> is just fine, at least average, which makes it seem bigger, not that I'm curious, or comparing, I'm just sayin'—"</p><p>"Holy guacamole, great balls of fire!" Luke cried in exasperation. "Just go back to fucking shit up!"</p><p>"Take a chill-pill, Puke-ass." Sharky turned to me, but I was already nodding.</p><p>"Go blow off some steam."</p><p>He beamed. "You're the best, homie!" He punched me in the arm, jabbed at Luke's nuts with his shotgun, then hopped back in the truck and rumbled away. He honked twice before disappearing around the bend.</p><p>Luke turned to me. "Well, here we are again." He peered over my shoulder at the dark floater plane on the river, decked with heavy artillery. He looked as though it were an interesting animal he'd never seen before.</p><p>I flicked my eyes up to the ugly-ass sign soiling the view to the north. "Wanna blow it up?"</p><p>His face lit like a flame. "Can we?"</p><p>I pretended to reconsider, then nodded. "He's gonna find me anyway. Might as well go down swinging."</p><p>"And I'll be swinging right alongside ya, Chief." He held up a fist, and I bumped it.</p><p>When the giant YES sign was a smouldering heap on the mountainside, I felt better than I had in months.</p><p><em>No means no, bitch,</em> I thought, as John snarled retribution at me through the radio.</p><p>"He sounds pissed," Luke shouted from the plane seat behind me. I nodded. And it was not long after we landed John showed us just <em>how</em> pissed he was.</p><p>"<em>It's deputy </em><em>huntin</em><em>' season,</em>" my radio announced.</p><p>Here we go again.</p>
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